A Side Job
by Simone Lyon
Summary: Hogan returns to Europe for the first time after the war to catch up with old friends that he's lost contact with.  But it turns out to be much more than that.
1. Belief

**Chapter One: B****elief**

Robert Hogan had always wanted to believe that Peter Newkirk would change. He was fairly sure that at Stalag 13, throughout the operation they carried there, that Peter Newkirk had changed. Hogan wanted to believe that whatever Newkirk had done before the war would not follow him afterwards. When they had finally parted ways in 1945—after helping Intelligence to get three years of facts straight about Stalag 13—Hogan had believed it was true. Hogan's command crewmen were given promotions. Newkirk and LeBeau graciously took theirs and left the military. Hogan was promoted to general, and worked in Washington as the Cold War began. Kinch remained in the military to become an officer. Carter took advantage of the G.I. Bill and went to college to become a chemist.

They all had their separate plans, and were eager to get to them once they were released to go home and resume their lives. But wherever they went, they had all promised to stay in touch with one another.

That was six years ago.

Robert Hogan had only heard from Peter Newkirk three times after saying good bye; the last in a Christmastime letter in 1948. It had been long and full, indicating that there was nothing wrong.

After the first two, they stopped for six months. When the letters ceased, Hogan thought that life might be hard on Newkirk. London hadn't been in very good shape when they left. Newkirk had tossed the dreams of owning a pub, because he didn't have enough money or any way of really getting the money. The economy in Europe was ill, compared to America's exuberant one. And it was taking a toll on those left to pick up the pieces of war.

But when there were no more letters, Hogan began to worry. He contacted Carter and Kinch, and they said they'd gotten no word either. Hogan wrote a worried letter to LeBeau. But LeBeau had responded that he and Newkirk saw and contacted each other often. LeBeau swore that nothing was wrong; Newkirk worked in a security business and was busy night and day. Hogan came up with the excuse that Newkirk had probably gotten careless with the letters since he was so busy. Hogan was comforted. Soon afterwards, Newkirk sent the last letter right before Christmas. It started off describing the reprimand he'd received from LeBeau.

But after that, nothing followed. Whenever an envelope arrived marked from Europe, Hogan's heart leapt. Though he loved hearing from LeBeau, there was never another letter from Newkirk. Still, he enjoyed hearing from LeBeau, speaking of his restaurant's success in Paris. He had taken over for his uncle, who had died in the war. LeBeau now had a wife, a child on the way, and overall a bright future. He still spoke of seeing and hearing from Newkirk often, and always berating him for not writing to the states.

_At least he's okay,_ Hogan would say to himself. He just wondered what kept the Englishman from talking to his friends on the other side of the pond.

But now, Hogan was in London in June 1951. He had only just arrived an hour ago, and his first stop was to see his former CO, General Butler, who was still in charge of agents in the Secret Intelligence Service, aka MI6. Hogan had written that he was coming, so Butler invited him for lunch on his first day. Hogan had only just walked into the building, when he was approached by a man in a suit. The man flashed a badge signifying that he was London police.

"Inspector Knight," he said. "General Hogan, I presume?"

Hogan flashed him an annoyed glare. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"I was hoping you could give me the whereabouts of this man," said Knight.

Knight handed him a piece of paper. Hogan looked down, and had to hold back a gasp. It was a picture of Newkirk—albeit an older one—of him in his uniform, probably right before he was captured. But it was what was printed above the picture that had startled Hogan the most: WANTED.

Hogan had wanted to believe that Newkirk would change.


	2. Disbelief

**Chapter Two: D****isbelief**

Save a slight widening of the eye, Hogan kept himself composed when he saw the wanted sign with Newkirk's face on it. He looked back up at Inspector Knight.

"I haven't a clue where this man is," answered Hogan truthfully. "My best guess would be here in London. I know he's from here. But that's about all I can remember about him. Well, minus his personality."

"You didn't know him well," asked Knight, disappointedly. "But you were in the same POW camp, right?"

Hogan nodded and shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I knew him well. I was an American Colonel, and he was a British Corporal. I came into contact with him when he was sent to the cooler for being a nuisance to the Germans."

Knight looked unconvinced. "But he was awarded a medal and a promotion when he got home. Why would he get that after five years in a POW camp?"

Hogan's brow furrowed with annoyance. "His combat record I suppose. Besides, he spent five years as a POW. He deserved a promotion. Anymore questions?"

Knight was stumped. "No. But I'll think of some more." He stepped aside, to let Hogan pass. Hogan walked off briskly.

But he turned around before continuing. "What's he wanted for?"

Knight's eyes squinted suspiciously. "Want to help him?"

"He _was_ under my command, Inspector," reminded Hogan. "I'd like to know what became of him."

Knight smirked. "He's wanted for the murder of Felix Zenger, which occurred two nights ago. Felix Zenger—Does that name ring a bell?"

Hogan didn't lie this time. "No. Have a good day."

He turned and left quickly.

()()()()()()

Hogan wasn't surprised when he found that Butler had kept the same secretary from the war. She had been very efficient then, and knew a lot of things. He smiled at her when he stepped inside the office. Or at least tried to smile. His nerves were strained right now. _Newkirk. Murder._ It kept running through his head as he tried to make sense of it. He came to a conclusion though: Newkirk was not a murderer. If he really had killed someone, it was with good reason. Really good reason.

"Why hello General," said the secretary, with obvious pleasure. "It's awfully nice seeing you around here again."

"Thanks, Jeanne," replied Hogan with another forced smile. She smiled when he remembered her name. "Is he in?"

"Yes," she replied. "And just doing busy work. So go right in; you won't be disturbing him."

"Thanks," replied Hogan.

He walked over to the oak door and opened it quickly. He immediately spotted Butler at his desk, bent over papers. The Englishman looked up and beamed. He jumped up and hurried over.

"Why hello again, old man," he said jubilantly. "It's been _quite_ a long time. Too long I must say. I wish I had more people like you around here to make sense of everything. But please, come in, and sit down. Was your trip okay?"

Hogan smiled truthfully now, despite his worries. He followed Butler over to the other side of his office where there were cushioned chairs on either side of a case of brandy. Hogan sat down while Butler poured two glasses. Hogan took his and raised it with Butler.

"To olden days," said Butler. He drank it down, while Hogan did with less energy. Butler noticed it. "Something wrong?"

Hogan put down his glass. "There is something wrong. And I think you know about it as well."

Butler knew he was caught. "You want to know about Newkirk."

"Of course I do," replied Hogan shortly. "I want to know everything that has gone on since the day I last saw him." There was a dangerous edge in Hogan's voice.

Butler sighed and leaned back in his chair. "How did you know to ask me?"

"I was just approached by a man in the lobby," answered Hogan curtly. "He showed me a wanted poster for Newkirk."

Butler rolled his eyes and swore. "That idiot. He'll end up just causing more trouble for Newkirk." He sighed. "That was Inspector Matthias Knight. He's the detective in charge of the case."

"What more trouble could he cause," asked Hogan. "Murder isn't enough?"

"You really think he murdered someone," asked Butler sincerely.

"Of course not," answered Hogan emphatically. "I know him. He doesn't kill without a damned good reason. So, if he did kill someone, there was a _damned good_ _reason_ for why. Care to explain?"

"Hogan, I promise you that I actually know very little about this case," replied Butler. "I don't think Newkirk would kill anyone in cold blood either."

"So why is Knight poking around here," asked Hogan. "Does he suspect that we were spies during the war?"

"No, no," said Butler. "He suspects that Newkirk is a spy right now. Did he ask you about the war?"

"He knew who I was on sight, and then asked me about Newkirk at the camp," said Hogan. "I didn't tell him anything of course."

Butler smiled. "Well, Knight is a bit too close to everything here. You see, Newkirk_ is_ a spy. He's under my command."

Hogan sat back, taking in the information. "Okay. So…this Felix Zenger guy…he sounds German. If Newkirk supposedly murdered him, then is he related to the case Newkirk is working on right now?"

"Hogan," said Butler. "The problem is…Newkirk _isn't_ working on anything right now. The last case he had ended a month ago. It's been quiet for his expertise ever since. I've been looking into who Felix Zenger might be. Maybe he was related to another case Newkirk had, and something unexpected happen. But what makes it even messier is that Newkirk isn't licensed to kill. So, even if Zenger was connected somehow, Newkirk should have only killed him in self-defense."

"Well, that's good," said Hogan. "Didn't someone tell the police that?"

"It all looks wrong though for Newkirk," continued Butler. "He's run off. He's disappeared. And he left a lot of incriminating evidence against him. A man saw him sneaking around Zenger's apartment building late that night, his fingerprints are all over the doorknob, and the door wasn't forced open; the neighbors heard an argument, a shot was fired, and someone was seen escaping through the window. Newkirk was gone the next morning, nothing left behind to suggest where he may have gone. It's as if he's disappeared off the face of the earth."

Hogan was silent for a long moment, as he thought hard about it all, trying to see how it just couldn't be. "The man who saw him—he could identify Newkirk? He knew his face?"

Butler nodded sadly. "It was actually a friend of Newkirk's and someone you know as well: Everley Blackwell."

Hogan looked startled. "Blackwell? Blackwell identified Newkirk? No, I don't believe it. Those two would do anything for each other. They would _die _for each other. Blackwell wouldn't incriminate Newkirk for murder. Not unless…unless…_never!_"

Butler shook his head. "The signed testimony is on my desk; if you want to see it with your own eyes." Butler leaned forward. "Look, Hogan, I don't believe it either. My intuition tells me there's something more. But we don't have the full story and we don't even have Newkirk. The police have basically decided that he's guilty! And Inspector Knight thinks we're connected somehow. But we're not. I've never heard of anyone called Felix Zenger."

"Okay, okay," said Hogan, shaking his head. "Start from the top. How did Newkirk begin working for you? Seeing as I never knew this, I would really like to know. It would straighten things out for me."

"Quite all right," said Butler. "I'll start—"

The door opened up and a man stepped inside, dressed in a slick black suit. He looked first to the desk and then to Hogan and Butler.

"Rob! I didn't know you would be here!"

Hogan stood up quickly, upon seeing his friend Jonathan Roberts (1) step in. Roberts greeted Hogan with a firm handshake. "What brings you to this side of the pond?"

"I came to catch up with some friends," replied Hogan. "But I found some unexpected stuff."

Roberts nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. How could I ever think that you wouldn't find out sooner or later that some of your men hadn't given up the spy business?"

"Some of my men," questioned Hogan suspiciously. He looked at Butler.

"Just sit down, and everything will be explained," ordered Butler. He looked at Roberts. "He knows as much about the murder as I do, but he wants to know how Newkirk got involved with us to begin with."

"Oh, well, I'm glad I'm here, then," said Roberts. "I've got more information about the case."

"What," asked Hogan eagerly.

"Wait," said Butler, holding up his hand. "One answer at a time. First, I'll tell you about Newkirk's job here, and then you get Roberts' information. As long as it isn't too urgent."

"Oh, no," said Roberts. "It can wait."

"Very good then," said Butler. He looked at Hogan. "So you want to know how Newkirk stayed with us?"

"Right."

"Well, it started how when we were looking for war criminals," began Butler. "And we needed men who would be able to track down our escapees. Especially with time pressing since the Russians became more worried about their borders. One of the men I wanted pinned down was Major Hochstetter."

Hogan's eyes widened. "We all wanted him pinned down."

"Of course," said Butler. "So, I got men who knew him the best."

"My men," stated Hogan with realization.

"Yes. The operation began as soon as the war ended, but I was having trouble finding someone to do the job. I finally decided—though reluctantly—to try and recruit men from Stalag 13 who had enough experience. I contacted Newkirk and LeBeau. They readily took on the mission and completed it within a month. All they were told to do was track Hochstetter down and give us the location. The military captured him."

"I never heard anything about this," said Hogan, taken aback. "Not a word."

"You weren't meant to," said Butler. "It wasn't something anyone could put in a letter. They were taken care of by the SIS. If it was known that they were involved in it, they could have been hunted down as spies by others. And with this ongoing thing with the Russians, being a known spy is not something anyone wants right now."

"Are they involved with the Russians," asked Hogan incredulously.

"Goodness me, no," said Butler. "I won't be giving them any jobs like that."

"Good," muttered Hogan. "They don't need to be involved in another war."

"Let's hope it never comes to that," said Roberts.

"Anyway," said Butler. "LeBeau went back to Paris, and has remained there ever since. He hasn't worked another mission since the one to find Hochstetter. The most he does now is harbor Newkirk when he's looking for someone in the area. He also transmits messages between Newkirk and here when it needs to happen. And he keeps an eye out for anything suspicious. Some Nazis have taken to hiding out in Paris. Haven't a clue why, they're hostile to Nazis there."

"It's large enough to hide, though," said Hogan. "Just like London."

"Actually, London is even better," said Roberts.

"How," asked Hogan.

"Immigration," said Roberts. "People are leaving Eastern Europe and looking for the place with the least destruction that they can still live in. London fits that description. London has always been fit for an immigrant. It's where the slums and ghettoes began, Rob. East End was built up around the factories juts like the burrows of New York City. So, a foreign name isn't that odd if in the right spot."

Hogan nodded in understanding.

"Well," said Butler, sighing. "Hochstetter wasn't the only one we wanted. I asked Newkirk if he would keep at it. He agreed. So, that's what he does."

"Hunts down Nazis," asked Hogan. "He's been doing that for the past six years?"

"And he's bloody good at it," said Roberts. "He's tracked down nine major officers. When he tracks them down, he simply reports them and MPs capture them. We never wanted to put him in a position where he would have to put himself out in the open."

Hogan was grateful for that and he let it show on his face. Butler and Roberts smiled at him.

"Still," said Hogan. "You couldn't…say anything to me?"

Butler and Roberts looked at one another. "It's not your job," said Roberts. "You have work enough in the states. And…they're not your men anymore."

Hogan frowned. "They'll always be my men."

"They're not in your care anymore," said Roberts.

"I wish they were," whispered Hogan.

"Look," said Butler. "You can still help. You know Newkirk just as well—if not better—than us, even if we have worked with him the past six years. When he's out there, you would know where he would go if there was trouble."

Hogan nodded. "I'll do whatever I can. And I can tell you where he is now."

"Really," said Roberts. "Would that be Paris, France?"

"Yep," answered Hogan.

Butler looked at Roberts accusingly. "You knew that? That's the information you had?"

"Right," said Roberts. "And it wasn't urgent because Rob here would know that. The information I was bringing you was that Newkirk was spotted in Dunkirk."

"So why does that mean he's going to Paris," asked Butler.

"Well, he's already in France," said Hogan. "And you say LeBeau takes him in, so he'll know he's safe there. Besides, what other friends does he have that he can trust completely with the truth about what happened in the murder? If he didn't kill this man, then he had a good reason for leaving the country. And I can't think of anyone else he would give that reason to."

"Well, I can," said Roberts. "And I'm investigating further into it."

"What is it," asked Butler.

"Newkirk has good friends here in London" said Roberts. "People he's known here all his life. Now, when things go wrong, many commoners stick to themselves. They keep secrets for each other, and sometimes take care of conflicts themselves and never come to the authority. What if they know something?"

"They've already been interviewed," said Butler.

"Right," said Roberts. "By the police. The people I plan on interviewing again know me on sight. I'm hoping they'll be a bit more persuasive with a familiar face not connected to the police."

"Make sure you get Blackwell," said Hogan. "Something isn't right there. I know it. Who are these other people you're going to look into Robbie?"

"Kingsley Warren, owner of the Red Lion Pub," began Roberts. "Thomas Mackey, a friend Newkirk has had since they were boys. And, of course, his sister, Mavis Newkirk."

Hogan started pacing. "I bet you anything they all know something. Newkirk wouldn't leave Mavis out of it; she knows about Stalag 13. Interview Blackwell again. Tell him I'm here. Tell him I've gone after Newkirk. See what he says. It wouldn't surprise me if he still didn't give you anything. They have loyalty towards one another."

"But Blackwell gave evidence against Newkirk," said Roberts. "I'm not getting at your point."

"I can't make sense of it either," said Hogan. "Except that I can't see Blackwell doing that to Newkirk so readily. What if Newkirk told him to say that? I don't know why, but maybe he did. Does anyone have theories about a motive?"

"Actually," said Butler. "There is a large one. I've only just realized it." Roberts and Hogan looked at Butler expectantly. "Zenger owned a shipyard, and recently layed off a lot of workers from here in London. One of those men was Thomas Mackey. Newkirk is close to Mackey and his son."

"So Mackey has a family," asked Hogan.

"Just the kid," replied Roberts. "The wife died in an air raid."

"So you think that a good motive would be that Newkirk went over to Zenger's place since his friend was out of a job," asked Hogan skeptically. "No; not in a million years. Newkirk wouldn't _kill_ anyone over something like that."

"Look," said Butler. "_We_ know that, but no one else does. As far as the police are concerned, that could be a perfect motive. Their scenario would be that Newkirk went over there to talk about it, they got into an argument, which eventually went violent and Newkirk killed him. I wouldn't believe it for a sec, but that's something the police would draw up."

"And I'll bet my soul Inspector Knight has done enough investigations that he knows Newkirk and Mackey are friends," said Roberts. "Which means it's only a matter of time before he comes up with that scenario."

"This just keeps getting better doesn't it," muttered Hogan despondently. He started pacing again.

"Well," said Butler. "We need to find out what Newkirk is up to. I'd like to believe that there's more to this and he didn't just leave the country to hide. So, Hogan, I'm putting you on a plane to Paris. Roberts, I want you to question those people again, tell only Blackwell and Mavis that Hogan is here. They might tell you something."

"Righto," said Roberts. "I'm on it."

"Oh," said Butler. "Take Knight with you."

"Begging your pardon," asked Roberts.

"To keep him from causing more trouble for Newkirk," said Butler.

"But what do I tell him," asked Roberts. "If I take him with me, he'll surely know then that Newkirk does work for us."

Butler shrugged. "Then do it. Don't worry; I don't think he'll be telling anyone."

Roberts shook his head. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say." He nodded to Hogan. "Almost like old times, old boy. Another mission."

Hogan snorted sarcastically as Roberts left the office. He looked at Butler, who shrugged. "Knight is a good investigator. He would make a good agent."

Hogan only nodded to that. "So you're sending me to Paris?"

"Unless you don't want to go," replied Butler with a smirk.

"How quick can I be there," asked Hogan.

"By this evening." Butler went over to his desk and hit the intercom button. Jeanne's voice came over.

"Yes, sir?"

"Book Hogan a flight to Paris. The first one you can get."

"Yes, sir. And get a car to take him to the airport?"

"Right."

"Will do, sir."

Butler released the intercom. "There you are."

"Thanks," said Hogan. "But before I leave, let me call Paris. Maybe I can hold it up."

"Good idea," said Butler. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. He handed the phone to Hogan. "That will give you _La Petite Cheri._"

()()()()()()

Above the noise in the kitchen, the shrill ring of the phone was heard. One of the waitresses answered as it she passed by.

_"La Petite Cheri_. _Peux-je assiste tu?"_

There was a pause. "Uhh…_Je besoin parler Louis LeBeau_."

_"Oui. Un moment."_

_ "Âllo, Ceci Monsieur LeBeau parle._"

"LeBeau? It's Robert Hogan."

"_Mon Colonèl!_ Or should I say general? 'Ow are you?"

"Fine, I suppose. You?"

"Great! Business is good, and only three more months and I shall be a father! It is only that rebuilding Paris is slow."

"Well, I'll be able to see it all soon. I'm in England."

"Really? You are visiting Pierre?"

"Not exactly. I'm looking for him."

"Looking for 'im?"

"Yes, and I was wondering if you knew where he is."

"I can give you 'is address—"

"He's not in England, Louis. He's in France."

"Why is 'e in France? 'E did not tell me."

But Hogan wasn't fooled. LeBeau sounded a little _too_ innocent.

"Louis, I know you know where he is. And I know you know he's in trouble. But I can help him and I need to find out where he is. We need to talk."

There was a pause.

"Okay. Come to Paris as quickly as possible. Come to the restaurant and I will take you to 'im."

"Thanks, Louis. I knew I could count on you."

"_Non._ You knew you would be able to get me to tell you anything. See you soon, _mon Colonèl._"

"All right, Louis. I'll be there by tonight."

_"Au revoir."_

Hogan hung up the phone and nodded at Butler. "We'll get to the bottom of this and I'll have Peter back soon."

"I don't doubt it," said Butler with a smile.

* * *

(1) Jonathan Roberts: This is supposed to be Group Captain Roberts from the episode "Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London". If his first name was ever mentioned in the show, I never caught it so I gave him the first name Jonathan. But he won't really be referred to as Jonathan in the story anyway. Just letting you know.

Hope you guys are enjoying this because this idea came to me out of the blue recently. I hope my writing isn't confusing to follow. That's something I'm trying to improve, so please let me know if you're confused.


	3. A Reunion of Two

**A S****mall**** R****eunion**

LeBeau hung up the kitchen phone, a little surprised.

_Why should I be,_ he thought. _Colonèl Hogan always knew what was going on in camp, why should an ocean stop him?_

Well, the first thing LeBeau needed to do was to go to Newkirk and tell him that Hogan was on his way. Hopefully that would calm the Englishman down. But he was on a mission of some sort. Newkirk did not slow the pace on any of his missions, always believing that he had to be quick when he was tailing someone, in order to corner them in the end. It had been working for the past six years, so Louis was unsure if Hogan would be able to stop that pace. Still, LeBeau did not even know exactly what was going on. There had been a strain on Hogan's voice, suggesting he was worried about Newkirk. LeBeau wasn't going to lie to himself; Newkirk had seemed stressed the day before when he had arrived. He had been tired and worried. LeBeau had offered to talk about it, but all that Newkirk had said back was: "I don't want to get you in trouble."

LeBeau decided to tell Newkirk in person that Hogan was coming, and that meant leaving the restaurant and Paris. After letting everyone know that he had to make a quick trip, he left. He took a train out of the city to his small home town: Estéve. A train was finally made to go past there. It was a quick walk through town to his old house on a farm. The farm was still in working order. LeBeau's parents now had hired hands working it. They were too old to be doing all the manual labor, and no longer had eight children running about the house that could help too. LeBeau's grandparents had passed on during the war, but peacefully. So, the house was emptier than it had been in years. LeBeau now lived above his restaurant in a spacious two-floor apartment. LeBeau's parents and his youngest sister, Daphne, were the only permanent residents now at the Estéve _maison_. Currently, though, Newkirk was residing there.

When LeBeau harbored his friend as he tracked war criminals, this was where he stayed. Newkirk had met LeBeau's large family after the war, and was practically adopted into it. One Christmas, Mavis and Peter were even invited to stay for a week with the entire family at the house. It had been quite a vacation.

But when LeBeau reached the house, his sister met him at the gate. She had a piece of paper in her hand.

"He's not here," Daphne said. "When we woke up this morning, he was gone. He left this."

LeBeau took the paper, unfolded it and read: _Needed to go. Thanks for everything. P. Newkirk. _LeBeau sighed and put it in his pocket.

"Thanks, Daphne," he said. "Tell mother and father I said hello, but I need to get back to the restaurant."

"Okay, good-bye," said Daphne. She kissed her brother on the cheek and he left.

LeBeau was not happy. Newkirk had never left without telling him personally. Something was wrong, and he wish he knew what.

()()()()()()

Hogan stepped out of the train station in Paris and looked around. The last time he'd been here he was parting ways with some of the biggest names in the French Underground. The celebration had been at LeBeau's restaurant. Hogan picked through the streets with familiarity. He had changed into comfortable civilian clothes, and had a satchel with in case this became an overnight trip. When he arrived at the restaurant, he waited patiently beside the _attendrez placé, s'il vous plaît_ sign. The _maî__tre_ came over and retrieved LeBeau at Hogan's request. When LeBeau came out of the kitchen briskly, Hogan could not help but smile. He was wearing the same chef's hat he had worn at Stalag 13. LeBeau came straight over, greeting Hogan with a firm handshake and a kiss on each cheek. He then led Hogan through the kitchen and out a back door, into a small, empty courtyard. There was a table to the side, where they each sat down.

"It is good to see you, again, _mon Colonèl,_" said LeBeau. "Excuse me, I do not forget you are a general, but out of 'abit—"

"Don't worry about it, LeBeau," said Hogan. "It doesn't bother me a bit. Carter and Kinch still call me Colonel. In fact, Carter still calls me boy."

LeBeau chuckled. "Well, what do you want to know? We can speak freely out 'ere."

Hogan looked around. "Newkirk's gone?"

"_Oui_," replied LeBeau. "I am sorry. But I went right 'ome to see 'im after you called. But 'e already left. 'E left a note, saying that 'e needed to leave. But 'e 'as never left without telling me good-bye. So I know something is wrong. And 'e was very stressed yesterday when he arrived."

"He's been here a whole day then," said Hogan, mostly to himself. "That's good. He can be accounted for then."

"What is going on," asked LeBeau. "I never ask about 'is missions, but yesterday I was worried. All 'e said was that 'e did not want to get me in trouble."

Hogan sighed. He should've known Newkirk would protect people along the way. This would make it more difficult to collect information. "There was a murder in London, and Newkirk is the suspect. They have a ton of evidence on him, but I know some of it's wrong. It's just that without him and his story, no one can ever prove it. Or—what's more frustrating—is that there are people who might be able to prove it, but they won't talk."

LeBeau looked confused. "Come again?"

Hogan quickly told him everything about the murder case. Afterwards, LeBeau just shook his head. "Trust Pierre to get into something this complicated. But you are right; there is definitely something wrong for Blackwell to say 'e spotted Newkirk. Blackwell would never do it so easily without talking to Newkirk first."

"I'd thought you'd agree with that," said Hogan. "I just want to know what's going on, though! It's so frustrating that Newkirk slipped away like this. You'd think he'd tell someone something. Now he's the guilty one!"

LeBeau looked thoughtful. "'E would do that if 'e was protecting someone. 'E would take the blame so that someone else did not suffer. You know that."

"But for murder," asked Hogan skeptically. "It would have to be someone he really cares for then."

"But those people you mentioned," said LeBeau. "Mavis, Blackwell, Thomas Mackey, Kingsley Warren…those are all people 'e has known a long time and would protect. Maybe it is about one of them. And those are also people that would know more about what was going in Pierre's life in London."

"So do you know where he was headed next," asked Hogan.

LeBeau shook his head. "'E did not tell me anything. But the man 'e is accused of murdering is German, _non?_ So perhaps 'e 'as gone there for some reason. I do not believe 'e is 'iding from the accusations."

"Do you know where he would go in Germany," asked Hogan.

"'E stops often in 'Ammelburg," replied LeBeau. "You should try there. I know for a fact that 'e stays at the Bachmeiers' overnight sometimes. They might know more."

The Bachmeiers were a family of former Underground members. They and the men from Stalag 13 had grown close. It was fitting that if Newkirk every stayed in Hammelburg, that was where he would be. Hogan knew it was his best shot. Otherwise, he had no idea where to go next.

Hogan nodded. "Well, before I get going, can I ask you why you decided to go for Hochstetter?"

LeBeau sighed. "I do not regret doing it. The man got what 'e deserved. I always said though that I was not going to 'ave anything to do with the war afterwards. I was just going to come back and start my life back. But…it was just so different 'ere. So much was missing from the past I had loved and lived for. I was depressed when I tried to start my life again. I knew what I wanted to do, but it was 'ard. Then, Butler called me up and asked me for 'elp. 'E told me Pierre 'ad agreed. I thought, why not? So, we went on, and got the job done quick enough. But neither of us stuck around after."

"Stuck around for what," asked Hogan.

"The execution," answered LeBeau. He just shook his head. "We tracked 'im down, but 'e never even saw our faces. We were permitted to be at the execution, but Pierre and I knew it would not make anything better. When I got back to Paris, I realized I 'ad gone out seeking revenge. I thought maybe revenge would make it all better. But it was wrong, because when I came 'ome, all was the same. So, I just focused myself, and started working. I got the restaurant back into good order, and from there, everything fell into place."

"So," said Hogan slowly. "You think Newkirk went back for the same reason as you? Revenge?"

"'E told me 'e did," replied LeBeau. "We talked about it. But 'e also came to realize that revenge would not 'elp anything. 'E said 'e went 'ome after we found 'Ochstetter, and that 'is 'eart still ached when saw London still damaged. Except…well 'e did not 'ave a job to go back to."

"He told you that," asked Hogan. Newkirk hardly admitted anything that might make one pity him.

But LeBeau nodded. "We talked a lot about it. About two months after the 'Ochstetter mission, 'e showed up back 'ere. I hadn't heard from him since 'Ochstetter, but it wasn't that long. Still, I knew something was wrong. 'E was reluctant to say anything, but once we started talking, 'e told me everything. 'E said 'e felt like nothing, because 'e 'ad no good job. 'E was still looking for a place to stay and living with 'is sister. Mavis didn't mind a bit, but you know Pierre. 'E is prideful. 'E could barely pay 'alf the rent for the apartment they were sharing. So, 'e went back to Intelligence, and asked for a job there. Butler gave it to 'im in a heartbeat. That was why 'e came back 'ere. 'E was letting me know. And asking me I guess too. But I declined with no 'ard feelings. I showed 'im the restaurant, and 'e was 'appy for me. Of course, I offered 'im 'elp whenever 'e needed it. But all 'e ever let me do was keep a radio and let me board 'im. 'E said as long as I was not being paid by Intelligence, 'e wasn't letting me do anything else."

Hogan smiled, thinking of Newkirk's protectiveness. "So nothing's changed that much."

"_Non_," said LeBeau. "Of course not. But there were never any other problems. 'E did 'is job; we were all 'appy. I do not know why 'e does not write, though. That you will 'ave to ask 'im for yourself."

"You're not gonna come," asked Hogan, a little surprised.

LeBeau smiled. "I would, but I cannot. I cannot leave my restaurant, and my wife needs me 'ome since we 'ave a child on the way."

"That's very understandable," said Hogan. "Say, I've never even met your wife. Care to introduce us?"

LeBeau's face broke out into a large smile. "Of course! I nearly forgot that you 'ave never met!"

"Trust me," said Hogan. "I feel like I do since you've written so much in your letters."

LeBeau flushed as he stood up. "What can I say? I am in love. And now that our letters are not censored, I tend to write more. But come on. I will bring you up upstairs."

He led Hogan up to the second story, which was basically the first floor of LeBeau's home. It held the den, a kitchen, and small dining area. It was all well furnished and held a homey feeling to it. There were some stairs, which LeBeau gestured to before hurrying up. Hogan waited patiently downstairs, glancing at pictures scattered throughout the den. On the mantle, beside LeBeau's wedding picture, was a picture of all the men together on the camp's liberation day. Hogan smiled at the picture, remembering how that day was nearly the happiest day of his life. The war for them had ended that day. Another month after that, and the war was over for good. He could still recall the euphoria that had overtaken all of them when armistice was announced.

LeBeau came downstairs with a beautiful, petite woman, with an obviously pregnant belly. LeBeau proudly introduced her.

"_Mon Colonèl_, this is _ma femme_ Arianne," he said. "Arianne, this is General Robert Hogan."

"_Bonjour_," said Arianne. "Louis 'as told me a lot about you."

"He's told me a lot about you too," replied Hogan, flashing her one of his most charming smiles.

Arianne blushed and looked at LeBeau, who blushed as well. "She was at the celebration we 'ad after the war. She was with the Underground. She ran a safe 'ouse for downed fliers to pass through on their way to Spain. That is why 'er English is so good."

Hogan nodded with appreciation. "Thanks for all the help."

"Thank _you_, Papa Bear," replied Arianne. She smiled. "Since I was a part of the Underground, Louis told me about your operation at Stalag 13. He does not tell me much, though."

Hogan gave LeBeau a look, but he gave no fault to the Frenchman. Hogan had told his own parents about their operation at the camp, and he knew Carter and Kinch had done the same. It was a secret that was too big to keep to themselves forever. Especially their loved ones who had feared for their safety thorough the entire ordeal.

"Do you want to stay for _le diner_," asked Arianne.

Hogan sighed and shook his head. "I really can't. I need to keep going."

LeBeau held out his hand to Hogan, who shook it firmly. "_Dieu est avec tu, mon Colonèl. Et Pierre aussi._"

"He was all the times before," said Hogan softly. "I don't think He won't be this time."

With that, he departed, on his way to find a lost friend.


	4. Old Friends, Old Enemies

**O****ld**** F****riends****, O****ld**** E****nemies**

After Roberts left Butler's office, he had gone straight to finding Inspector Knight. The man was easy to find since he had come back in the building's lobby. Upon seeing Roberts, he immediately came over.

"I have a few questions, sir," he said.

"I know you do," shot back Roberts with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "And you're about to get some answers if you'll just come with me." He walked quickly outside, not bothering to wait for the detective.

Knight was shocked at first, but regained his composure and quickly caught up with Roberts on the sidewalk. "Where are you taking me?"

"We are going to pay a visit to Mr. Everley Blackwell," replied Roberts coolly.

"We've already questioned him and got a solid testimony," said Knight. "What more do you want?"

"I am not completely satisfied with his story," said Roberts. "My intuition—as well as other people's intuitions—says there's more to his story. We are also going to talk to Miss Mavis Newkirk, Mr. Kingsley Warren, and Mr. Thomas Mackey before supper. That is, if you want to join me."

Knight smirked. "As if I wouldn't. But what exactly are you going to ask them to get them to say something else?"

"I'm not asking them anything different," said Roberts. "But since I'm not with the police, and they know I'm a friend of Newkirk's then maybe they will be more relaxed. And Miss Mavis and Mr. Blackwell should respond to the fact that Robert Hogan is here."

"Robert Hogan? The general? But how would that make any difference? I asked the general about Mr. Newkirk and he said he hardly knew the man. Just said he dealt with him a few times at the camp they were at. He looked kind of—" He was yanked off the street by Roberts just as a bus whizzed by the intersection. A little shaken, but not deterred, Knight went on. "—kind of startled that Mr. Newkirk was wanted for murder, but I wouldn't count on him lying."

"You can count on him to lie if you ask him personal questions about his men," said Roberts. He then yanked Knight forward when it was safe to cross the intersection. He let go of the man when they were safely on the opposite sidewalk. "Now do try and not get yourself killed."

"You're not making any sense," said Knight.

"You want to get yourself killed?"

"No," fumed Knight, outwardly frustrated by Roberts. "Why do you keep doing that? Get to the point. Where does General Hogan fit into all of this?"

Robert paused momentarily and opened his mouth. Knight held his breath, but then quickly let it out when Roberts shook his head and kept walking. Knight caught up again, with a new approach in his mind.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll watch you and fill in the blanks if I can."

"That is what I want you to do," replied Roberts. "Think of it as a test."

"A test," Knight retorted back. "I'm an Inspector with the London Police. I was also a Captain during the war. I've passed a lot of tests to get to where I am now. And I take offense to some pencil pusher like you telling me I need to pass another test in peacetime for just another murder case in East End!"

The outburst had brought both men to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. People kept walking though, for the daily rush in London would not be stopped by two quarreling men. Roberts was slightly taller than Knight, and looked down at the Inspector with slight contempt. Knight looked right back up with pure contempt.

"This is not peacetime for all, Mr. Knight," said Roberts. "I promise I will explain all eventually, but for now you'll have to follow my lead." He half-turned away, but paused to look back. "And by the way, I was not some 'pencil pusher' during the war."

Though Knight's temper was boiling, his own intuition could see the knowing look in Roberts' eyes. Knight knew the man had secrets and that he wasn't lying about telling him. Knight pushed down his anger and continued to walk alongside Roberts.

"I will tell you one thing, though," said Roberts. "Hogan and Newkirk are close. They worked together a lot during the war. Miss Mavis knows this as does Mr. Blackwell. Mr. Blackwell was in the same camp as Newkirk and Hogan."

"I know that," muttered Knight.

"Good," said Roberts with a hint of a smile. "What about Miss Mavis?"

"She was a corporal in the WAAF from 1942 to 1946," replied Knight smugly. "Now she works as a secretary in an office downtown."

"Very good," said Roberts, with another small grin. "Butler was right about you."

"How?"

"Never mind. Later. Come on. Let's take a bus the rest of the way. It looks like it might start raining any second now."

Knight wisely kept his mouth shut and hopped on a passing bus with Roberts.

Roberts as right; the skies opened up only a few minutes later. They had to make a dash down a sidewalk to the apartment building where Everley Blackwell lived.

"His number is—"

"I've got his number but we won't need it," said Roberts. He pulled a key out and opened the front door, letting them into the small stairwell inside. Knight shut the door behind them as they both shook the rain off their coats. Roberts led the way up two flights and to Blackwell's apartment door #202. He quickly knocked.

"Where'd you get the key," asked Knight.

"It was in Newkirk's apartment when we searched it," answered Roberts. He stilled when he heard heavy footsteps coming up to the other side of the door. There was a disgruntled murmur heard and then the door opened the full length of chain lock. Everley's face appeared through the narrow space.

"'Ow can I 'elp you gentlemen," he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He then opened them. When he saw Roberts, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, but when he saw Knight he glowered. "You can leave now. I've already answered all the bloody questions you asked an' signed all them papers. Now leave me so I can get some sleep. I'm leavin' for work in an 'our." He started to close the door, but Roberts firmly held it open. He looked at Blackwell intently.

"I know you recognize me," he said. "I just want to let you know that I wasn't sent here by the police. I was sent here by your old boss."

"Wot old boss," asked Blackwell. "An' if the police didn't send you, then why is _he_ 'ere?"

Knight opened his mouth to protest, but Roberts was speaking again. "Your old boss, Colonel Hogan."

Blackwell's eyebrows disappeared beneath blond bangs as they shot up in shock. "One moment." He shut the door quickly, and undid the chain lock. He opened the door all the way and let the two men inside. He was only wearing some worn down flannel trousers. He shut the door behind him and left the room to go inside a bedroom.

"Make yourself comfortable," he cried form the next room. "I'm just gonna throw on a shirt an' wash up. There's tea on the stove if you want to 'eat it up."

Roberts and Knight looked around the place. They were in the kitchen, which quickly turned into the den. There was another bedroom on the other side of the den, but besides that and Blackwell's bedroom and bath, there was nothing more to the apartment. The kitchen held a very simple stove and oven. There was a sink coming off the wall beside a small refrigerator. A wooden table littered with a few cigarette packs and old newspapers stood in the center. In the den, there was an armchair and small sofa, with a coffee table holding a radio. The window had no shutters, blinds, or curtains, and looked out over a small alley filled with garbage cans. The next apartment building could nearly be touched from Blackwell's window.

Everley Blackwell's history with Newkirk went back to the beginning of the war, when both men were in the same POW facility. Blackwell had then been transferred with Newkirk and other prisoners to Stalag 13. Being from the same area, they had taken to one another, and easily became good friends.

Roberts sat down at the table, moving some papers aside and lighting a cigarette of his own. Knight gave him a disapproving look, which Roberts shrugged off.

"He said make ourselves at home," said Roberts.

"I don't see how he even makes it a home," replied Knight.

Blackwell came back in the room with a shirt on and his face cleaned up, looking much more awake.

"Now, then," he said, taking a seat opposite the table from Roberts. "What questions does Colonel 'Ogan need answered?"

"It's General Hogan first off," snapped Knight tersely.

Blackwell raised his hands in mock surrender. "Settle down, chum. 'E was the Colonel to a lot o' men for a long time. It's a 'abit. But I suggest you leave out o' this, mate, because I'm certainly not talkin' to you."

"You trust_ him_," asked Knight, looking at Roberts. "You barely know him."

"The Guv'nor trusted 'im," answered Blackwell shortly.

"The Guv'nor?"

"_General_ Hogan, excuse me."

"Stow it you two," snapped Roberts. He leaned forward, looking at Blackwell intently. "Hogan wants to know why you so quickly snitched on your mate, Newkirk. He doesn't believe you would do it so quickly unless you guys are mortal enemies now."

Blackwell looked suspiciously at Knight. "Wot about 'im?"

"He's with me," assured Roberts. "He wasn't before, but he is now. Don't worry about it. Hogan knows he's in on this too."

Blackwell seemed reluctant still, but finally sighed. "If you're lyin' to me, there'll be 'ell to pay. Got that?"

"Of course."

Knight was bewildered and looked at Roberts. "You work for MI6! And you're going to let him threaten you like that."

"I know 'e works for MI6," said Blackwell with a roll of his eyes. "Makes sense if you know the Guv'nor well now, and are followin' up on Peter. I know Peter still works wif you guys. It just makes sense. But anyway…I 'snitched' on Peter because 'e told me too."

"Told you too," echoed Knight with confusion. "What did he do? Walk out the apartment and say 'hey, by the way, I was the man that you saw sneaking around here and I just went in and murdered that man.'"

Blackwell shot Knight a furious look, but then looked back at Roberts. "I was working nearby and all the sudden 'e comes runnin' over to me an' tells me to tell bobby that 'e was the one that was in that buildin'. I don't know why 'e told me that, but I don't believe for a sec 'e was the one wot done it!"

"So you don't know what really happened up there," asked Roberts. "He didn't tell you anything else?"

"No," said Blackwell, disappointedly. "I wish I knew. An' I wish I could've told the truth, but 'e made me promise."

"So why go back on it now," asked Knight. "If you've already sentenced him to a life in prison?"

"Because the Guv'nor's askin'," said Blackwell, as if it were the answer to everything. "So 'e's 'ere, in London?"

"Paris now," answered Roberts. "He went off to find Newkirk and get the real story. But it looks like there's much more to this than we know."

Blackwell nodded. "Well don't spread the word yet about wot I said. That might complicate matters that we don't know about. I think it would be better if we let Newkirk play things through like 'e wants to. Then, when 'e returns, we'll get our story."

"And since when do you call the shots," asked Knight. "This is really important evidence you're giving us."

"Because Newkirk obviously told me to convict 'im for a reason," said Blackwell. "An' 'e's not 'idin' from it! 'E went to go make it right." He sighed. "Look, the only reason Peter would do wot 'e did is if it was in 'is plan all along, or 'e was protectin' someone. I'll bet you anythin' no one knows the whole story except 'im because 'e's protectin' everyone. Now, 'e's gone to make things right."

"What makes you so sure he actually went to make things right," asked Knight.

"Because 'e wouldn't want to be wanted for murder for the rest o' 'is life," replied Blackwell. "Now, I'm done wif you." He looked at Roberts. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Nope," said Roberts, getting up. "That's quite enough. And your secret is safe with us, so you needn't worry. We'll be in touch."

Roberts pulled on his coat and hat and then left the apartment, Knight following right behind while fuming. Outside, the rain had stopped, so Roberts lit another cigarette.

"What is going on," asked Knight. "Who are these people? That man in there is not your average bum."

"He is not a bum," replied Roberts. "He has a house and a job."

"Whatever," said Knight. "What I mean is that he knows things I don't know about this case. Look, if you want my help, I need to have the full story. Why does he trust Hogan so easily? Why does he believe in Newkirk's character like that? Why, from the beginning, is everyone hiding something?"

Roberts looked at Knight shrewdly. "Very well. We'll take a late lunch while I explain some things. Afterwards, we'll go see Miss Mavis Newkirk."

He turned and left, leading Knight through a maze of streets, some still supplying rubble of buildings from six years earlier. Knight wondered where he was being taken, but chose to keep his mouth shut. Then they came to a street that was a bit livelier than the others, and at the corner, they arrived at a pub called the Red Lion. Knight stepped in, surprised to find it very spacious and clean. There was along bar down one wall, and then tables throughout the rest of the room, including booths along the other walls. There was a stage to the far side of the large room, but there was no performance at the time. It seemed that this was a slow hour for the joint. There were a few tables occupied by people having a late lunch, and a few other men seated at the bar. Knight was quick to notice how he and Roberts seemed a bit overdressed for this occasion. But Roberts stepped over to the rack beside the door and took off his hat and coat. He then went over to the bar, where an older man stood, washing glasses.

The man looked up with familiarity. "Peter's not 'ere today. You know that."

"I'm not looking for him here, Mr. Warren," said Roberts. "I need to ask you a few questions."

"'E's already asked me quite a few," replied Warren, looking at Knight who came to stand beside Roberts.

Roberts rolled his eyes at Knight. "Must you make everyone feel so uncomfortable?" With a charmed smile, he looked back at Warren. "I just wanted to ask you if Peter has been getting along with everyone lately."

Warren nodded. "As far as I've seen an' 'eard. The only bad feelin's wot's been goin' around is all towards the fellow who was killed: Felix Zenger."

Knight gave Roberts an 'I-told-you-so' look. Roberts ignored it and pressed on. "A lot of people around here lose their jobs?"

"Quite a lot," answered Warren. "That's the largest factory around here. They say it wasn't doin' _that_ bad; not bad enough to lay off so many people. I don't really know much about the economy for the factory, though. I just know that a lot o' folks weren't pleased."

Roberts just nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Warren. The usual for both of us."

"Comin' right up, sir," replied Warren classily.

Roberts left the bar to go to a booth on the far side of the room. Knight sat opposite him. "So, who's that?"

"That is Kingsley Warren, the owner of this pub for as long as it's been in business," answered Roberts. "Mr. Warren gave Newkirk a job when he was a young lad and dropped out of school. I meet Newkirk here when I need him for a mission."

"What kind of missions," asked Knight.

"Tracking down Nazi war criminals," said Roberts.

"Why him?"

"Because he knows them. He lived in a POW camp for five years."

"So how does that qualify him? There are a lot of people who spent time as POWs."

Roberts sighed and then quickly and quietly dove into a brief history of what really went on at Stalag 13. As far as Roberts was concerned, he was cleared to do this. Butler seemed to have taken an interest in Knight anyway. Roberts fell silent for a moment as Warren brought over two club sandwiches and some ale. He resumed his story when they were isolated again. Roberts never gave many details, just examples of things they did, and never included that he had been a part of one. That was a little too deep. He was just giving Knight an idea as to why Newkirk, Blackwell, Hogan, and so many others involved _were_ qualified for much more than what it appeared they did on the surface.

Knight—for a change—had nothing to shoot back at Roberts. While he had suspected that Newkirk's involvement in the war was more than it had seemed, he had never expected something so vast as an Underground unit running from beneath a POW camp. He was genuinely impressed, which seemed to have silenced him.

"So," said Roberts. "Does that explain a few things?"

"Yes," said Knight. "It does. Thank you. Now, I can approach this without wondering about other things so much. Just one more question though: why are you telling me this if it's so classified?"

Roberts shrugged. "My boss told me to take you along for this little excursion so I am assuming that he wants to include you in other things."

If Knight was thinking MI6, he didn't let it show on his face. "What if you assumed wrong?"

Roberts smiled. "Trust me; I didn't."

They finished their lunch in silence, left a heavy tip, and then moved onto their next interrogation. They took another bus, which took them towards West End. Once again, Roberts pulled a key from his pocket to another person's apartment building. They went up three floors this time, Knight noticing that the place was much nicer than the previous apartment building they had been in. When they knocked on the door, they heard a soft "One moment, please" from the other side. They heard soft footsteps coming up to the door, a pause, and then the door opened to reveal a petite woman with dark brown hair and green eyes. Knight immediately saw the resemblance between the Newkirk siblings.

"Miss Mavis," greeted Roberts with a nod.

"Please, Mr. Roberts," she said. "Don't call me that. You make me sound older. Just Mavis."

"Of course," said Roberts. "May we come in?"

"Certainly," said Mavis, opening the door wider to let the two men through.

Knight had not had the privilege of questioning Mavis. Another inspector had right after the case opened up, before handing it over to Knight. But Knight quickly realized that her fragile looking frame was just a mask. There was authority in her tone, and also experience. She was undaunted by having two men in her apartment and walked with pure business around them. She led them to her own den where they all sat down. The apartment was well-furnished in contrast to Blackwell's and had a more welcoming feeling to it.

"More questions about Peter," she asked.

"Why do you say that," asked Roberts with a smirk.

"Why else would you be here," she asked. She flicked her gaze over to Knight momentarily. "And he's from the police."

"How can you tell," asked Knight, peering down at himself, looking for any an identification on his coat.

"You have a gun in your coat pocket," replied Mavis evenly. "The weight is different over your left breast."

Knight actually smiled. "Well then, you certainly know your stuff."

"That's what you get when your brother is a spy," she responded. "What do you need to know?"

"Just _anything_ you might know about what Peter has been doing lately," said Roberts. "Did it seem like he was on a mission?"

Mavis hesitated. "I trust you Roberts. You know that. But I want to know why I have to tell you this now."

"We've already talked to Blackwell," said Roberts. "He told us the truth, but we've not put it out yet. He suggests that Peter is protecting someone, but we've not got a clue who that would be. We've talked to Warren, and the only thing he could say was that a lot of people around there had bad feelings for Felix Zenger because of all the people he laid off. Also, we know where Peter went after he disappeared, so it's only a matter of time until we track him down and catch him."

"And then what?" Mavis's tone was edgy, as if she was daring Roberts.

"We bring him home, get answers and try to set this straight," answered Roberts. "There are plenty of people on Peter's side."

"But if they're all MI6, then that doesn't help much does it," said Mavis. "If you want to protect your secrets, you can't go out there and defend them. That's not good enough, Mr. Roberts."

"Hogan is here," said Roberts quickly. "He stumbled across the mess and now he's set off to Paris, where he'll make contact with LeBeau and find Peter. So, is _that_ good enough?"

Mavis sighed. "Listen: he _was_ on a mission."

"Not for us," answered Roberts.

"Well then for him," answered Mavis. "One moment." She quickly got up and went into her room.

Knight looked at Roberts. "These are the craziest people. You have these secrets but everyone seems to know something about it."

"Wrong, only the people who were involved before know," said Roberts. He ondered for a moment, ignoring Knight's confused expression. "Blackwell was right: no one knows everything," said Roberts. "That's where Newkirk has played his cards well. He's the only one that really knows everything, but no one knows enough to get themselves killed. I'm beginning to think this is bigger than we thought."

"How so?"

"If it really was tied to a mission, Newkirk will fear redemption from people we haven't caught yet. That might be what is going on here. Felix Zenger—he's obviously German. What doesn't make sense is why Newkirk is saying he killed him. If this Zenger guy is someone else who might have been a war criminal, why wouldn't he just report him and we would have taken the chap in? That's where it doesn't add up."

"What if Zenger was having revenge," asked Knight. "What if he knows someone that Peter turned in? And now, he's getting back?"

"And he decided to get back by laying off a bunch of Newkirk's best mates," continued Roberts. His eyes lit up. "Thomas Mackey."

"So Newkirk gets angry and goes and confronts him," went on Knight. "They get into a fight…"

"No," said Roberts. "I'm convinced it wasn't Newkirk who killed him. He wouldn't have told Blackwell to give him away. Newkirk is protecting whoever did kill him."

"One of his friends?"

"Possibly."

"Thomas Mackey?"

"Possibly."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

"We need Mavis's information. We might learn more about Felix Zenger this way."

They patiently waited while their minds went through numerous scenarios. Mavis eventually returned, carrying some folders. She opened them up, revealing notes and photos.

"They're Peter's," she said. "He asked me to hide them right before he left."

"He came here that night," asked Knight.

"Yes."

"But you swore he didn't."

"I would swear to a lot of things if it saved my brother, Inspector."

"Please, don't call him Inspector. You make him sound like he's good at what he's doing," teased Roberts.

Knight glowered, but then looked back at the folder. He picked up two photos of two different men. One he recognized as Felix Zenger. "Who's this?" He showed Mavis the other photo.

She shrugged. "He didn't tell me anything about this stuff."

"Axel Eichel," murmured Roberts, as he skimmed through notes of Newkirk's. "That's him. He's a friend of Zenger's and they came over from Germany together in 1939. They were both 22 years old at the time. They were probably draft-dodging."

"Wonder how he fits in," Knight asked himself.

Roberts went on as he read through notes. "They grew up together. Their fathers were close friends. Whoa. Listen to this: their fathers were in the Gestapo together."

"Lemme guess," said Knight. "Newkirk is responsible for putting their fathers behind bars."

"Hold on a minute," said Roberts. "It doesn't say." He looked through a few other pages, and then stopped as something caught his eye. "Yeah you're right. Captain Jürgen Eichel—Axel's father—was tracked down by Newkirk in 1948. The good Captain was also executed for interrogating POWs against the Geneva Convention. Hmm…he and Hochstetter _would_ get right along."

"And what about Zenger's father," asked Knight.

Roberts' brow furrowed as he flipped over another piece of paper. "Hold on, there's something here. Zenger…no Zenger's father and mother died from the flu when he was 12. His guardian was his uncle—_that's_ who was in the Gestapo with Eichel's father. And—_shit_."

"What?" Knight and Mavis both asked.

Roberts showed the paper to Knight. It was a page full of family history of the Zenger's. At the top of a paragraph, one word was circled. Hochstetter.

"Hochstetter," said Knight. "Who's he?"

In response, Mavis grabbed the paper and read it quickly. "Hochstetter was Zenger's uncle on his mother's side. Hochstetter took Felix Zenger in when his parents died." She looked up, bewildered. "I can't believe it. How is Hochstetter involved in _everything_?"

"Who is Hochstetter," Knight asked the room impatiently.

Roberts looked at him. "The bane of Stalag 13." 


	5. Marie

**Chapter Five: M****arie**

Once again, the phone in _La Petite Cheri _rang over the chaos of the kitchen. This time, LeBeau picked it up himself. But it was Arianne.

"You 'ave an urgent message from London," she said.

She need not utter another syllable. LeBeau hung up the phone and quickly left, going up to his apartment, and then up one more to the attic where he kept the radio to speak to London.

_"Âllo?"_

"LeBeau? This is Roberts. I need to speak to Hogan."

"'E is not 'ere. Pierre 'ad already left by the time 'Ogan got 'ere so 'e went after 'im."

"Where did he go?"

"We do not know. We are simply guessing at places 'e might make contact with."

"Okay, well you have to get this to Hogan somehow. We've got info on what Newkirk is doing."

"Go on. I will make notes while you talk."

Roberts spoke quickly while LeBeau wrote rapidly. Afterwards, LeBeau relayed the information back to make sure he had it correctly.

"Felix Zenger, the man Newkirk is thought to have murdered, is 'Ochstetter's nephew. Zenger moved to England before the war with 'is friend Axel Eichel. Eichel's father and 'Ochstetter were friends in the Gestapo, and Newkirk is responsible for tracking them down. Eichel and Zenger took over a shipyard in London, though Zenger was officially in charge of the company. Eichel disappeared after Zenger was murdered. That is all?"

"Right," replied Roberts from the other end. "Hogan needs to know that. Look, I think Newkirk is going after Eichel for some reason. If you can find Eichel, you'll find Newkirk."

"'Ow is anyone supposed to do that? Eichel is now 'iding from Pierre!"

"I don't know. But I'm fairly positive that's part of it."

"But we still do not know anything more about the murder?"

"Only that Blackwell was told by Newkirk to testify against him."

"_Magnifique!_"

"Not exactly. Blackwell won't change that story until he gets the okay from Newkirk. Blackwell won't go back on his promise to Newkirk because he thinks Newkirk is protecting someone."

LeBeau shook his head. "_Merci beaucoup._ I will relay the message."

"Thanks, LeBeau. We'll be looking for some more answers on this end."

LeBeau sat back in the chair, looking up at his wife. She gave him a reassuring smile.

"It will all be okay," she said.

"I sure 'ope so," he replied despondently.

"So 'ow are you going to get the information to 'Ogan," asked Arianne.

LeBeau thought for a moment. He was on a train, bound for Hammelburg, the next place LeBeau had come up with where Newkirk was harbored during his trips to find war criminals. He was harbored there by former members of the Underground that Newkirk trusted. But LeBeau was not connected by radio or phone to them. He had to come up with a way to contact Hogan while he was on board the train.

Suddenly he came up with an idea. He got on the radio quickly and started calling out the recognition code of a countryman.

"Who are calling," asked Arianne.

LeBeau smiled, thinking of how Hogan would like this.

_"La Tigresse."_

()()()()()()

Hogan remembered when he would see Tiger and his heart would flutter and his stomach would do flips. He remembered how he thought he was in true love with the woman. But…no. Papa Bear and Tiger were meant for each other in the throes of a war where romance was a pleasant escape. It had been a romantic fantasy: two Underground leaders bound by duty to stay as long as they could to lead friends against vicious foes, and fight for each other's hearts as well. Romantic in the throes of war, where it wasn't _quite_ reality. Because reality was when the war ended and true love appeared to be long walks in parks and raising children and living to get blue hair together in rocking chairs. Papa Bear and Tiger were not meant for that path.

But Robert and Marie didn't even know each other. The longing of going back to life the way it was before was tough, leaving no extra time for a few more dates. They realized, sadly, that they were not meant for each other. It had been great while it lasted; another thing worth fighting for. So, after the large celebration in Paris, they parted ways. A light kiss and they had turned away from each other.

Hogan had thought about writing to her every now and then. Just a hello between old war allies. He wondered about her from time to time. Not in an obsessive way; just a wondering way of what she was doing now or where she was. To those who knew him, they were surprised he hadn't married anyone yet. It wasn't as if he couldn't get a woman. But Hogan couldn't really settle down for anyone. He worked out of Washington, but traveled around the States enough. And he still had his pilot's license which meant he _never _hitched a ride anywhere. He kind of liked being a bachelor, just drifting around between work, friends, and family.

So, all in all, it was a huge surprise to him when an elegant hand dropped on his shoulder with some familiar authority—the same authority that had kept them testing each others' wills throughout the war. Hogan looked up and his jaw actually dropped when he saw no other than Tiger standing there in the aisle.

What might have startled him more was when she said: "I 'ave a message for you."

Hogan stood up quickly. "Tiger? I mean—what are you doing here?" He felt awkward; like a shy schoolboy who didn't know how to act around women.

"I live 'ere, Robert," she said. She took a seat across from him on the train, as it lurched forward, leaving another French town behind. "And I thought you said we were calling each other by our real names now." She gave him a teasing smile.

He sat down, feeling embarrassed. "Of course, Marie. Sorry, you just startled me is all. I—I didn't expect to see you." He flushed at his random speech impediment.

"You came all the way to France and you were not going to even say 'ello," she asked, her smile broadening.

Hogan chuckled. She was certainly on her game. "I was going to look you up when I got here. But I wasn't supposed to be here in France for another week. Something came up—"

"I know," she said, her smile faltering. "That is why I said I 'ave a message for you."

Hogan frowned, having completely forgotten that. "You know where Newkirk is?"

"_Non_," she replied. "I 'ave not seen Pierre in a month." She made it sound as if it had been so long, and Hogan almost remarked that he hadn't seen Newkirk in six years. Not to mention she used his first name, albeit the French form. She continued. "I 'eard about what is going on from Louis, who called me from Paris this afternoon." It was now around eight o'clock in the evening. "Apparently, soon after you left, he received word from London with news about the case Newkirk was working on."

Hogan sat back in his seat, not liking the look Marie had on her face. "They said Newkirk wasn't working on a case."

"'E was working on one of 'is own," she said. "It was connected with a previous one. You are not going to like this."

"Go on," growled Hogan.

Marie could not help but shake her head, hearing that tone that meant Papa Bear was worried about one of his cubs. "'E is not one of your men anymore, Robert."

"No," murmured Hogan. "He _is_ my friend though. So, tell me."

Marie nodded and told Hogan the information LeBeau had gotten from Roberts. After she was finished, Hogan was still. Then, he swore under his breath,

"I can't believe that after all this time, Hochstetter is somehow involved in another problem where one of my men—_excuse me_—friends is now in danger of spending the rest of his life in prison," said Hogan. He looked at Marie and then out the window.

"You are 'eaded to 'Ammelburg Louis tells me," said Marie.

"Yeah," said Hogan, looking back at her. "He said Newkirk goes there sometimes. I don't know what I'm going to find, but it's the only lead I got. You know anything?"

"Nothing more than Louis," said Marie. "Sorry."

Hogan shrugged. "It's fine. I'm just worried. I'm guessing LeBeau told you what was going on."

"_Oui, _'e told me everything," answered Marie. "Sometimes Pierre stays with me, but I do not have a radio connection to London."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's something Newkirk would only entrust to LeBeau," said Hogan with a smile. "Because he's a protective man."

"Really?" Marie snorted sarcastically.

A light bulb suddenly went off in Hogan's head. He narrowed his eyes playfully with suspicion. "Wait a minute. You and him…?"

Marie blushed some and nodded. Hogan just burst out laughing. Eventually, he controlled himself. "I'm sorry. But I'm learning more and more about Newkirk today than I've been able to sort out since I've known him. This is just a surprise. He hasn't written me in years."

Marie chuckled. "I know. I keep telling 'im to, but 'e will not. 'E is afraid of something, I think but 'e will not talk. Which I think is why I 'ave not seen 'im for a month."

"Got into a fight, eh," asked Hogan with a tease.

"A small one," admitted Marie. "But 'e called a few weeks ago and said 'e was busy with a mission and would not be around for awhile. We are fine. But I am glad you are 'ere now. Maybe you two can talk, and 'e will say something. Get whatever is bothering 'im off his chest."

Hogan was just smiling.

"What," she asked, starting to laugh.

"Nothing."

"Stop it, Robert. What are grinning about?"

"Did you like him at camp?"

Marie smiled and shook her head. "I will admit that when I first met you all, I was charmed by him. But only for a little while. Because I did fall for you."

Hogan shrugged. "Just wondering. So what happened?"

Marie sighed. "I do not know. The first time after the war that I saw him was when 'e and Louis were on their mission after Hochstetter. They passed through my town, and we 'ad lunch together. They stopped on their way home and told me what they had done. We just talked. Then, Pierre passed through my town again on 'is own mission. 'E told me what 'e was doing. And I do not know what 'appened. We became friends, and then we became more than friends." She smiled. "I guess you could say we 'ave been dating seriously for about a year and a half."

Hogan smiled, genuinely happy for the both of them. "Well, it's certainly is a surprise, but the more I think about it, the more I can see it. Does that mean you're coming with me to find him?"

"I cannot," said Marie. "I 'ave a job at 'ome, I must go back to." She looked out the window and then back at him. "We've got the whole night to talk. 'Ow are you?"

"Up until now," said Hogan, with a sarcastic laugh. "Fine. I work in Washington and have a nice life spending time with family and friends. But I don't have a family of my own. I can't settle down."

She smiled. "I 'ave not settled down either. Well, I do not 'ave a family of my own I mean. I went back 'ome, and I 'elp _mes parents_ run their bakery." She shrugged. "It is pleasant and simple. The town where I got on, that is where I am from."

"It's small," said Hogan.

Marie shrugged. "Where did you think I was from?"

"I can't recollect ever thinking about it that much," said Hogan. He frowned, thinking that they were now back to the dilemma they had ended their romance with. When he looked at her, he saw that she was thinking the same thing.

"Like I said," said Marie. "We 'ave the whole night now." She smiled and blushed. "But I do not mean it in a romantic way. I just want to get to know my friend better."

Robert smiled, feeling some tension leave his shoulders. "Yeah. That's fine. I'd be delighted to hear about your hometown."

"Yours too," she said.

So, they spent the rest of the night, learning about Robert and Marie.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, please don't crucify me if you don't like a Newkirk and Tiger relationship. But I never truly believed in a Hogan and Tiger relationship because I though it was unrealistic for the reasons I gave above. But, please, if you disagree, don't tear me up. We've all got our own opinions.


	6. Just In Theory

**Chapter Six: J****ust**** I****n**** T****heory**

After radioing their information to LeBeau, Butler, Roberts, and Knight decided on their next course of action.

"I suggest we find out more about this Eichel fellow," said Butler. "If we learn more about him, we might be able to figure out where he's headed…which will hopefully tell us where Newkirk is headed."

Roberts was skeptical. "I agree we need to know more about Eichel, but I don't believe that will help us find Newkirk; at least not before he finds Eichel. Whatever Newkirk plans on doing, it will be done before _we_ have any say about it."

"What about General Hogan," asked Knight. "You said he was going after Newkirk. Can he catch up?"

Roberts shrugged. "He's the one who would be able to. Thing is, he doesn't know anymore than we do. His advantage s that he know how Newkirk thinks."

"You think your man in Paris can get the information to Hogan," asked Knight.

"Certainly," said Butler. "He has other people he can contact to relay the information. That isn't something we need to worry about."

Knight felt foolish amongst these men, something he wasn't accustomed to. But he was bent on proving himself to them. "Then we should go talk to Newkirk's other friend, Thomas Mackey."

Roberts looked at Knight and nodded. "That's exactly what we need to do." He stood up and looked at his watch. "He should be home at this time. He looked at Butler and nodded. "We'll be around."

"Certainly," said Butler. "Good luck."

"You too," said Roberts. He led Knight out the room.

"How are we going to get something out of Mackey," asked Knight. "He's looking like a suspect, but he doesn't have to own up to anyone. Not Hogan. Not you or Butler."

"That's true," said Roberts. "And to tell you the truth, I hope that by just closing in on him he'll give. It's just a matter of how far he will go to do something for his mate, Newkirk."

Knight nodded and opened the door for Roberts to go outside. It was now turning dusk, and the two hoped on a bus.

"Do you think he killed him," asked Knight, looking at Roberts sincerely.

"Newkirk?"

"Yes."

Roberts shook his head. "I know what he's capable of. And he's capable of killing someone if he believes it has to be done. From what I know about their ventures in Germany, he was never wrong about that sort of problem. He is described as impulsive, but when it comes to taking another person's life, he knows when he has to and when he doesn't have to. That was important when they were in Germany. I have faith that it's carried over to the present."

Knight nodded. "So, now we have to assess if it was situation where he found it necessary to kill Zenger."

"Right," said Knight. "We don't enough about Zenger or Eichel. And we hardly know anything about what Newkirk was working on. We don't know why he was investigating them."

"I still think he figured it out because of Zenger laying off all those people," said Knight. "I bet Zenger was getting revenge on Newkirk. And I think that was just the beginning. I mean, _I_ wouldn't leave it at that."

Roberts raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Knight just shrugged. "I mean, if you were trying to get revenge on a chap who put your father in jail and got him executed, would you settle for just putting his mates out of a job?"

"I guess not," said Roberts. "But just what exactly do you have in mind?"

Knight appeared stumped for a moment, but then smiled. "So everyone talks about how Newkirk is protective and cares about the people who are closest to him, right? So, what if Zenger designs his revenge to hurt Newkirk in that way? First, he puts them out of jobs. Then maybe he threatens them? Or blackmails them? Something of that nature."

Roberts smiled. "That certainly makes sense. Except, if that were true—which it definitely could be—why wouldn't Newkirk just come to us with his information on Zenger and Eichel, prove that their acting vengefully, and then kicks them out of the country?" He sighed. "My point is: we have come to many theories, but all could have been ended with the help of the law. In your theory, Newkirk could still have prevented murder. He didn't have a reason to murder."

Knight pensively looked out the bus window. "So there's still something there that we don't know? That's what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," said Roberts. "That is; if you have faith in Newkirk."

Knight looked back skeptically. "I didn't know him. All I have are old records from before the war, very little to account for anything during the war, and nothing after the war. And his records from before the war don't help his current situation."

"I know that," Roberts tersely replied.

"I know you do," said Knight. "And I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I want to know the truth as much as you do. I just want you to realize how terrible this looks for Newkirk to an outside man like me. Everything points to Newkirk. And the longer he's out there, chasing this Eichel fellow, the worse it will be for him when he returns."

"I know that," replied Roberts again, even more on edge.

Knight sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, the more I look at this, the less I believe Newkirk murdered anyone. A good spy wouldn't do compromise himself like that. He would've found a way out. And you're Newkirk sounds like a damn good spy since Germany."

Roberts smirked. "Thanks. But if you ever get to know him, you'll learn that he'll compromise a lot if he thinks it's what has to be done." He stood up. "Come on, this is our stop."

They got off, the sun even lower now. The street was lined with houses on both sides. They were nearly wall to wall, with shoulder width alleys between each one. There was no front yard, just stone steps leading up to a small platform meaning the front door. Though they were houses, they were not all pretty. Some were obviously taken better care of than others but all were fairly old and worn down; their inhabitants having not taken interest in them.

On the streets, it was quiet. A few people strolled along, minding their own business. A few children were playing their street games. Then, a mother's voice called out that it was time for dinner, and the street was suddenly void of life save Roberts and Knight. Knight found himself caught in a nostalgic mood for a moment, before Roberts stopped in front of a house.

"This is it."

The house was like all the others in condition, save that it appeared to have been painted recently. Roberts led the way up to the door and knocked. There was a light on in the front room, so there were no questions that someone must be home. But it was a long while before someone answered the door. When it opened up, a boy, a young teenager, just stood there and looked up at them.

"Hello," said Roberts. "We're looking for Thomas Mackey. Is he here?"

The boy appeared timid. He hesitantly nodded and stepped back, allowing the two men to enter. The boy quietly shut the door behind them, and then left the room.

"Not quite the talkative type, is he," remarked Knight.

"That must be James," said Roberts. "Mackey's son."

Knight nodded as the boy came back with his father. His father smiled at them and shook their hands. "Thomas Mackey," he said. "You can just call me Thom."

"Of course," said Roberts.

"'Ow can I 'elp you," asked Thom.

"We need to question you about Peter Newkirk," replied Knight. "Just about how he's been acting lately. We know you're good friends with him, so we were wondering if he was acting oddly to you recently."

Roberts met Knight's eyes briefly and he showed his approval of Knight's question.

Thom sighed, obviously tired of the conversation before it started. He sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for them to the same. Then, he looked at James.

"Go on, lad," he said. "You can take your supper into your room."

James simply nodded, and took a bowl of soup with him from the room. The sound of a door shutting soon followed. Thom looked back at Roberts and Knight.

"Before I answer anythin'," said Thom. "Do you know where 'e is?"

"We've got an idea," replied Roberts truthfully.

Thom just nodded and looked absently around the kitchen for a moment. When he looked back at them, he was troubled. "Every now and then I don't see 'im for awhile. 'E says 'e works with a security agency in Paris." Thom shrugged. "I won't say I don't believe 'im, but I just think there's more to it. All I can say is that lately, I've not seen much of 'im."

"You think he's busy with this security agency," asked Knight.

"That's what it looks like," said Thom. "'E's been gone quite a lot in the past week or so."

Roberts nodded sympathetically. "So, I understand you were laid off recently."

"Yeah," said Thom. "Disappointin' since I've been with the shipyard since the war ended. I was even about to move up the ranks some. Goin' to get a raise an' everythin'."

"And you just got laid off like that," asked Knight suspiciously.

"Just like that," said Thom. "It was a surprisin' blow to a lot o' people."

"And you've been looking for another job since," asked Roberts.

"Yeah," said Thom. "But so far, no luck. I would've thought that with my experience I would get something. But it must be the times. The economy isn't so great nowadays."

"Where have you gone looking so far," asked Knight.

"Other shipyards," answered Thom. "Even in other cities."

"How are the bills," asked Roberts casually.

"Tight," said Thom. "But I saved up some back pay from the war. It's been in savin's ever since for an emergency. This would be the time. I just 'ope I can find a job before we run out."

"Put your son to work," asked Knight.

"'E works at a drug store around the corner," answered Thom. "'E's worked there for awhile now. But I don't want to take the lad's money."

Roberts looked at Knight briefly. "So, you're saying that Newkirk must've been busy lately. How long has it been since you've seen him last?"

"Two days ago," answered Thom sincerely. "I told the police that. I told 'em that 'e'd come by that night of the murder. But it was around dinner time. 'E came over to visit an' I invited 'im to stay for dinner. So 'e ate with us."

"What did you talk about," Knight.

Thom shrugged casually. "Just about everythin' goin' on. Nothin' special. Nothin' any different."

Roberts nodded and stood up. Knight and Thom followed. They shook hands in parting.

"Sorry to bother you," said Roberts. "We're just looking for answers. But thank you for your time."

"No problem," said Thom.

Roberts and Knight went to the door, but before leaving Roberts looked back at Thom.

"Do you think Newkirk murdered Zenger," he asked.

Thom shook his head immediately with conviction. "Not a chance. Peter may 'ave messed up early on in 'is life, but 'e was never evil. 'E was never a murderer."

Roberts nodded. "Thanks." Before leaving he caught a glimpse of James coming back into the kitchen. He met Roberts' eyes, looking troubled. Roberts gave him a reassuring nod before exiting the house.

On the sidewalk, Knight lit a cigarette and handed another one to Roberts. "That boy looks a little jumpy."

"With everything going on, he's probably a little nervous," said Roberts. "Or maybe he's just like that."

"What do you think about Mackey?"

Roberts shrugged as he began walking down the sidewalk. "Hard to tell. He wasn't hesitant in answering any of our questions. He even told us that Newkirk was there that night. Usually, if someone is hiding something, they won't say anything about them, to make sure you can't connect anything with them."

Knight breathed a deep sigh. "It was beginning to look so certain…I guess we need to rethink this."

"Right," acknowledged Roberts. "Maybe Mr. Mackey plays a lesser role in this than we thought. What I find a little strange was Eichel's disappearance after Zenger's murder."

"I've been thinking about that too," said Knight. "Now I'm beginning to wonder about it. Newkirk could be chasing him as well."

"I'm certain Newkirk is after Eichel," said Roberts. "Now we need to figure out why." He stopped suddenly, obviously in thought.

"What," asked Knight.

"I'm not giving up on Mackey," answered Roberts. "You had your theory that Zenger might want revenge on Newkirk and that one way to start hurting him was by attacking those closest to him. So, I want to know why Mackey hasn't gotten another job yet."

"Okay," said Knight. "Tomorrow I'll start by going to all the places he went; all the shipyards around here. I'll do it first thing in the morning."

"Great," said Roberts. "You can come back to Intelligence when you're finished. We'll be looking up more about Eichel while you do that."

"And tonight?"

"Go home and get some sleep."


	7. Hammelburg

**Chapter Seven: H****ammelburg**

Hammelburg was different in many ways compared to six years earlier. For one, soldiers were not present at every corner. There were not swastikas hanging around. The damage done by war was cleaned up. The town was actually even larger than before, due to its closeness to East Germany. Refugees from Eastern Europe had stopped here to call it their new home. Life in Hammelburg was looking up, even if it had sustained many difficult years during the war.

Walking around in Hammelburg was different too. When Hogan first stepped off the train, he could not help but feel exposed. To him, stepping out onto the platform of a German train station in broad daylight still made him want to cringe. Instinct was telling him to quickly dodge into the shadows and lurk there while carefully planning his next move. But it _had_ been six years and he was able to shake the feeling away easily. He was safe. Not to mention Hammelburg was in the American sector. Being an American was not unrealistic. Since Hammelburg was not a large city, American soldiers were scarce. But Hogan did see them around the town's main buildings. They were acting alongside the German police, but Hammelburg had caused little trouble.

Before making his way to the Bachmeiers' (former Underground members who lived well outside town on their farm) Hogan decided to drop in on other former Underground members. He dropped by the grocery to see Max still selling overpriced apples. (1) Before Max could spot him, he took an apple from the crate and bit into it. This was perceived with great consternation by a clerk man, who could be no older than twelve. His outburst brought Max's attention to Hogan quickly.

"Do I still get a discount, Max," he asked.

"Colonel Hogan," he exclaimed, hurrying over to shake Hogan's hand enthusiastically. "What are you doing around here? Are you stationed here with the military?"

Hogan smiled and shook his head. "I'm on vacation. I came to see how everyone is."

Max laughed. "We are doing very well. The economy is starting to improve around here, waking a lot of businesses up."

"The economy would have to be good if people are still buying overpriced fruit from you," joked Hogan.

"What can I say," asked Max. "It is still expensive to buy. But we are getting there. By the way, consider that apple paid for."

"Sounds good," said Hogan, taking another bite.

Max looked at his young clerk man and assured him everything was okay. The boy's pride was still hurt, though, and he gave a sour look to Hogan before stalking off.

"You'll have to excuse him," said Max. "He's been in fits since he came here. He is my nephew from outside Berlin. His parents sent him here to get away from the Soviets. But they did not follow. And he does not like the country. He says it is boring."

Hogan smiled. "Well, it's probably a sight better here compared to the Soviet zone. They're not cooperating at all. They won't take help, and all that's going to do is make more people want to leave faster."

Max sighed. "I've tried to tell him this is for the best for him. But he does not see it. He says he doesn't care where he is; he just wants to be with his family and friends."

Hogan nodded with understanding. "Tell me about it."

"So," said Max, his voice taking on a nicer note. "You are on vacation? Where do plan on going?"

"So far I've been to England and France, catching up with all the usual suspects," said Hogan. "Now I'm back here, seeing what became of the place."

"Have you been back to the Stalag," asked Max.

Hogan looked at him. "It's still here? I thought they would've torn it down by now."

Max smiled. "Your military almost did, but a lot of us decided to preserve it. We said we wanted to keep it around as a memorial."

"Lemme guess, all Underground members? You know we didn't leave anything behind to suggest what we did there."

"Oh, we know," assured Max. "But it was still important to us. So, we made repairs on it, and cleaned it up a bit. You left it all a mess."

Hogan shrugged. "I always said we needed a cleaning maid, but Klink never agreed to that for some reason."

"Well, where are you staying," asked Max. "You are welcome to stay with me. I would rather that than you having to get a room at a hotel."

Hogan was touched but shook his head. "I think I'll be staying with the Bachmeiers. But thanks Max, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Colonel," he said. "How long are you staying?"

Hogan smiled sadly. "I wish I could stay longer, but I'm only passing through."

"Good-bye, then," asked Max, holding out his hand.

"For now," said Hogan, as he shook hands. "But I'll be back soon for a longer visit. I wish I could see more."

"You take your time with your vacation," answered Max.

"Thanks, and let anyone else know that I say hello and give them my best wishes," said Hogan as he straightened to leave.

"I will," promised Max. "_Auf Wiedersehen._"

Before Hogan went through the door, he turned around once more. "And thanks for the apple."

Not five minutes down the street, did he run across another familiar face. Oscar Schnitzer, still driving the same veterinarian's truck he'd had six years ago, spotted Hogan first as the American walked down the sidewalk. The vet slammed on the brakes, nearly causing the car behind him to ram him. Horns blared as Schnitzer called out Hogan's name.

"Colonel Hogan!"

Hogan turned around to see the commotion Schnitzer was causing. The older man was now abandoning his truck on the side of the road. He walked around quickly over to Hogan who was just shaking his head.

"_Meine Gott! _I cannot believe it! After all these years you are back."

"It hasn't been that long, Oscar," said Hogan. But he shook Oscar's hand firmly. "How are you doing?"

"Great! And you?"

Hogan shrugged. "I'm on vacation. But I'm just passing through here. I'll be at the Bachmeiers' tonight."

"That is good," said Schnitzer. "Is that where you were headed?"

"Yeah."

"And you were going to walk all that way?"

"It's not that far. I used to walk there all the time."

"But there is no need to anymore," exclaimed Schnitzer. "Come, I will give you a ride."

Hogan couldn't turn away the insistent offer, so he followed Schnitzer back to his truck. It was still running, and cars were going around it with drivers cussing in annoyance. One man shook his fist at Schnitzer, who just waved him off.

"Well where were are you headed," asked Hogan.

"Don't worry. You are not out of my way," replied Schnitzer. "I am making a call to one of the farms where a foal is due today."

"Oh," said Hogan. "Many other vets in town?"

"A few more, since we have grown. But my old reputation has kept me quite alright with my competition."

"Good. How are your nieces?"

Schnitzer smiled shrewdly. "They are well. They live in Frankfurt now. They are running a dress store, where they make their own dresses."

"Hey, that's great! They got families?"

"Hilda does," replied Schnitzer. "She has a husband and four-year-old. And what about you? Are there any little Colonel Hogans running around?"

Hogan chuckled. "No. Just me. I'm kept busy enough in Washington."

"What about your men? How are they?"

"They're all okay. Carter is engaged and in college right now. Kinch is still in the military, but got married. He has a little boy. LeBeau has a kid on the way and runs a restaurant. And Newkirk—"

"Will not be found at the Bachmeiers'."

Hogan stared at him. "How did you—he came here? He saw you?"

"Last night," said Schnitzer. "Late last night. He came around because he needed a few things. I help him out every now and then. So do the Bachmeiers."

Hogan sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Damn it. He goes so fast. Doesn't he ever stay in one place?"

"Well the only time he comes around here is usually for supplies. Few war criminals running stop here. This is just a pit stop for him."

Hogan glowered. "Did he say where he was headed?"

"No," answered Schnitzer. "He never does. But he was never as close to me as he was to the Bachmeiers. Perhaps you should ask them."

Hogan just nodded, and though hard for a moment. "So how did you know I was looking for him?"

"You would not come all the way to Germany on your vacation and just be passing through," said Schnitzer. "But I did not plan on seeing you on the street either."

"What kind of supplies does he come to get from you," asked Hogan.

Schnitzer shrugged. "He likes to carry a firearm sometimes, even though he does not have a license to kill. He leaves it with me, and only I know where it's kept. He returns it back to me when he's finished, never mentioning if he's had to use it."

"Boy," said Hogan. "Everyone seems to know more about Newkirk than I do. It was only yesterday that I found out he was involved in all this stuff."

Schnitzer smiled. "None of us except him and his superiors know everything about what he does. But I know what his missions are about. I found out when Newkirk and LeBeau arrived here tracking down Hochstetter."

"Hochstetter came back here," asked Hogan.

"Preparing to cross the border into East Germany," said Schnitzer. "He had friends in the area, and he stopped here for a night. They had him within a few hours of their arrival. Of course, he never knew it was them."

Hogan just shook his head. "No one wants to tell me anything."

"He is a spy," said Schnitzer. "Plain and simple. You never told anyone everything about anything. It was all on a need-to-know basis. Now, Newkirk practices with that same rule. It protects people in case something goes wrong."

"Well, something went wrong this time," said Hogan. "Though I'm sure you guessed that since I'm chasing him across Germany."

"Yes," prompted Schnitzer.

"I can't tell you everything," said Hogan. He smiled. "You're right. It's a need-to-know basis."

Schnitzer stopped and Hogan looked down a long driveway that led to an old farmhouse. He smiled, nearly feeling at home here. He looked back at Schnitzer and held out his hand. "Thanks for the ride and the information."

Schnitzer shook his hand. "Anytime, Colonel. And good luck."

Hogan climbed out and then waved Schnitzer off. He turned around and looked back down the driveway. He reflected that he had never actually approached the farmhouse from this direction. He had always come from the woods, slipping across the fields as a shadow, and then dodging into the back door before being detected. He remembered looking up to the attic window and seeing that lone light, signifying it was safe to come in. It had been a little ray of hope in those darker days. Now, as he walked up to the porch, he thought about how nice it was to finally walk in through the front door, without having to hide.

But he never got the chance to knock. On the second step up the porch steps the door flew open. An older woman who he had never once described as elderly, stood there, looking down at him in shock. She was wearing—as usual—an apron around her waist. Though she looked frail with age, Hogan knew she was a strong woman with a strong but kind heart.

"Oh, Robert," she said. "You've come back."

Hogan jumped up the last two steps and hugged her on the porch, lifting her off the ground. He could not hide how excited he was to see her again. She kissed him on the cheek and then rushed him inside.

"Karl," she called, as she shut the door. "Karl, come down quickly. We have a visitor."

"How are you Analiese" asked Hogan. "You certainly look like nothing's changed since I last saw you."

"We are quite well," said Analiese. "And you could not have come at a better time. The boys are home for the weekend."

Hogan opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a man coming down the stairs. He was laughing.

"Oh, _meine Gott_," he said. "I cannot believe it."

"That's what Schnitzer said," joked Hogan.

"You saw him too," asked Analiese, as Hogan and Karl shook hands.

"He spotted me walking down the street and gave me a lift over here," answered Hogan.

"You can tell us more in the den," said Analiese. They walked into the den, but Analiese headed for her beloved kitchen. "I was just putting away breakfast. Would you like something, Robert?"

Hogan could smell the remnants of eggs, sausage, and pancakes. Though he had had an apple, a real breakfast sounded good. He had planned on getting the information he needed and then getting out, but it was too tempting. "If it's not too much trouble…."

"It's _never_ too much trouble," said Analiese. "I can heat some pancakes up and put some eggs on the stove. It won't be any trouble at all."

"Thank you," Hogan called into the kitchen. He sat down with Karl in the den. Karl took his pipe from the mantle and lit it, sitting down in the armchair beside the fireplace. Hogan sat down on the sofa. He remembered telling his parents about the Bachmeiers.

_They were the kindest, bravest people I've ever met. They treated us so well and never turned us away even if it meant risking their lives. Karl and Analiese were like a mother and father to all of us. And their sons were great friends. I wish you could meet them. You would love them. Analiese almost makes better breakfast than you, Mom._

Karl smiled at him. "I am going to guess at something here, Robert. You cannot stay long."

Hogan smiled, knowing the old man knew what he was thinking. "I had planned to, but I came here for a reason. And he's not here anymore."

Karl nodded with a knowing smile. "Peter only stayed for a few minutes last night. He wanted to say hello since he was in the area. But he was in a rush."

"I keep getting that. This is the second time I've missed him by hours," said Hogan. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Frankfurt," answered Karl.

Hogan sighed with relief. "Thank goodness. Hopefully that's his last stop."

"It might be," said Karl. "It is a station for people communicating across the border. It's often where Peter finds his prey."

Hogan nodded. "Then I'm sorry to say it, but I'll have to leave after breakfast. But don't worry. I'm on vacation, and this was one of my stops anyway. So, after I catch Newkirk, I'll be back for a longer visit." He shook his head. "That's like the fifth time I've said that in the past two days."

Karl smiled. "Is Peter in trouble?"

Hogan nodded. "I can't give you many details. But, yes, he's in trouble back in London. It's somehow related to the ma Newkirk is after. So, I've been put on the job to find Newkirk and bring him back to London so we can get all of this set straight. The problem for me is that Newkirk is way too good at his job."

Karl laughed. "Well, I am sorry to hear all that. But are you confident it will be taken care of?"

Hogan hesitated. No one had the full story. It was still up in the air as to whether or not Newkirk killed Zenger. But Hogan's gut said that wasn't true.

Hogan nodded. "Yeah. I think it'll be all right. We just need all the facts, and Newkirk's the only one who has them. And this guy he's after."

Karl nodded solemnly. "I guess there are some things that will never end."

Hogan looked up defiantly. "It was his choice. It's over for those who want it to be over."

"Not exactly, Robert," said Karl. "Eastern Europe? And even here in West Germany, we are still finding it hard to cope sometimes."

Hogan sighed. "Sorry. It's just that even when LeBeau explained about how they went after Hochstetter, I still couldn't quite understand why they did it. I wanted to forget all the terrible stuff we saw and did here. Newkirk had a choice. But he still came back to it all. He could've left it all behind."

Karl breathed in from his pipe. He exhaled thoughtfully. "He never gave us a reason, but we never asked. You'll have to ask him yourself."

"I'm concerned for him," admitted Hogan. "He hasn't written any of us back in the states for years. That's mainly why I came over here in the first place: to see whatever became of him. Of course, when LeBeau wrote that Newkirk's in the "security business" I didn't exactly expect this."

Karl chuckled, but it was interrupted by the back door opening. Two men walked in and Hogan stood up, recognizing Karl's two sons: Franz and Pepin. They were certainly more mature since Hogan had last seen them. Before, they had been in their mid-twenties. They had managed not to get drafted because they were doctors like their father. They had spent the war in military hospitals though. On furloughs they had returned to their parents' house to help in the Underground.

When Franz and Pepin saw Hogan, they were as surprised as ever.

"Colonel Hogan," exclaimed Pepin. "What are you doing here? You know you only missed Peter by a day?"

Hogan chuckled. "So I was told. Which means I'm leaving shortly after my breakfast."

"Which is ready," called Analiese from the kitchen. They all went to sit down at the table, where Analiese had set out pancakes, eggs, and coffee for Hogan.

"Thanks," said Hogan when he sat down. He dug right in, always enjoying a home cooked meal.

While he ate, he learned about how things had gone since they war's end for the Bachmeier family. But the conversation was short, because Hogan was eager to get going. When he was through, the family knew he was ready to leave. Franz and Pepin offered to drive him to the train station.

"Thanks for the breakfast," he said. "I promise, I'll be back to visit longer. This wasn't my original plan."

"We understand," said Analiese. "Good luck."

Hogan climbed into a truck with Franz and Pepin, seated between the two younger men. Franz was driving. They talked more about their lives and where they were in their careers. When they came to the train station, Hogan got out disappointedly. He hated to leave old friends so quickly.

"Thanks for the drive fellas," he said.

"Anytime, Colonel," said Franz.

"One thing," said Hogan. "Would you have any idea about where Newkirk might've gone in Frankfurt? Any contacts around there that you know of?"

Franz and Pepin looked at one another.

"We know of one place he goes when he's around there," said Pepin. "Like with us. He goes to visit and stay around if he's got a man in the area."

"Who," asked Hogan.

Franz smiled.

* * *

(1) From the episode: Guess Who Came to Dinner

The Bachmeiers are OCs of mine. They appear in the story "Hope"


	8. Schultz Manor

**Author's Note: **I am so, so, _SO_, sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I went out of town for two days and when I got back I was sick and really in no mood to sit down and write. I apologize for I was trying to get a chapter in a day and two days at the most. Obviously, that fell apart. I apologize again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. As I am now all better, Chapter Nine will be coming shortly. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: S****chultz**** M****anor**

While Hogan left Hammelburg, Roberts sat in Butler's office, skimming through records about the shipyard Zenger and Eichel had been running. It had not been a bad investment for them at all. From what he could decipher, there was no profitable reason for Zenger to lay off all the workers he did. This enforced Roberts's growing suspicion that Knight's theory was correct: Zenger had been extracting some kind of revenge on Newkirk. The problem for Zenger was that he had not been able to follow through with his entire plan.

There was no question as to why Zenger had not been able to carry through with his entire plan. The question of who murdered Zenger was now the top priority. Before, their suspects were minimal. Now, even Knight was hitting dead ends with multiple suspects. Maybe it really was Newkirk, who probably knew more about what Zenger was doing and went to settle it. Or maybe it was Eichel, deciding that things weren't going the way he liked. It could have been Thom Mackey, or even another laid off worker. Roberts felt that no matter how much they uncovered, more questions only surfaced. He dearly hoped Hogan reached Newkirk quickly.

The door to the office opened, and Knight came in, looking as if he'd run a race.

"You won't believe what I've found," he said. "Thomas Mackey was being blackmailed by someone. Well, pretty damn close to blackmail."

"What do you mean," asked Roberts, as he and Butler stood up.

Knight walked over to them. "I went to all the places Mackey went for a new job. I talked with the employers there, and asked them why they wouldn't take Mackey. I went to four different places, and all of them said that he was definitely qualified. But they were also all given an anonymous tip about Mackey's record as a low time criminal."

"My God," said Roberts. "You were right. Zenger and Eichel set him up. They were going to start getting at Newkirk from Mackey."

"So Newkirk must have found out," said Butler. "He must know this, because he's now gone after Eichel. Even if Newkirk didn't kill Zenger, he still wants Eichel to pay up."

"This narrows it down," said Knight. "Now I can only think that either Newkirk or Mackey killed Zenger. After Zenger is killed Eichel leaves the country to hide. But Newkirk knows his way and now knows enough about Eichel, he can go after him."

"And since Newkirk left," said Roberts. "That means he meant to protect Mackey. If not, he would have stayed. He would have explained. He would have let us take care of Eichel."

"So he ran," said Butler. "And in the process works out the deal with Blackwell, it takes off any suspicion that might be placed on Mackey. It throws all the suspicion on Newkirk."

"But was it _really_ Newkirk or _really _Mackey," asked Knight, sitting down. "That's the question."

Roberts shook his head. "I refuse to believe Newkirk did it." He looked at the other two men, and saw that they were not as sure. Roberts sighed. "Well, if he did do it, perhaps he got into a fight with Zenger, and that was how it was. I won't believe for once that Newkirk went to Zenger's apartment for the sole purpose of killing him."

Butler nodded. "I believe that as well. But Roberts, you cannot deny…Newkirk is very deep in this one."

()()()()()()

When Hogan got off the train at Frankfurt a few hours later, he asked an official for directions to getting to a certain residence. Hogan was told it was actually outside the city limits. It was a long walk, so he was given a cab. The ride outside the city was quick. The cab stopped in front of rather large house on a well manicured estate of a four or five acres.

"Well, here you are," said the cab driver. "You said you were friends with this man?"

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing," replied the cab driver with a shrug of his shoulders. "I just wish I was friends with the owner of the largest toy company in Germany."

Hogan rolled his eyes and paid the diver. "Thanks anyway."

He got out and remained standing at the end of the drive after the cab drove away. He was still having trouble believing that he was here. It had not been on his stops for vacation, mainly because he never even knew if he would hear about the man again. But, nope, here he was, standing in front of the house of no other than Hans Schultz, formerly Sergeant of the Guard at Stalag XIII.

Hogan finally composed himself, readjusting the satchel still hanging from his shoulder. He started his walk down the drive. The house was an old style and large enough to comfortably hold many people. Hogan knew very little about Schultz's family. Schultz had often complained about his wife, and Hogan had had mixed feelings of whether or not everything Schultz said about her was true. But he did remember the pathetic argument that they had over laundry and flowers that one time in camp. Schultz had spoken about children as well, but Hogan had no idea how many there were. By now, they might be grown up anyway.

Hogan knocked on the large oak door. It was a long while until someone answered. It opened up, and a small boy, no older than six perhaps, looked up at Hogan. He had a kid's healthy red cheeks. His hair was nearly bleach blond and he had large, round blue eyes. The eyes were curious as they looked up at Hogan.

"Hi," said Hogan, speaking German as he had done throughout most of his time in Germany thus far. "I'm looking for Hans Schultz. Is he here?"

The boy smiled. "I'm Hans Schultz."

Hogan laughed. "I'm sure you are. But I'm looking for the really tall and big Han Schultz." Hogan exaggerated his description with gestures with his hands and a deepening of his voice.

The little Hans laughed. "You want Grandpa Hans."

_Grandpa Hans_, thought Hogan to himself. _Just the man for the job._

"Yes," said Hogan. "That's him."

"I will go get him," said little Hans. But before he could turn away from the door, a woman's voice came from in the foyer.

"Hansie? Who are you talking to? You know that you shouldn't answer the door for a stranger."

A woman with dark hair came to stand beside Hansie and looked at Hogan. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Hans Schultz," replied Hogan again. "I'm an old friend of his, from the war. I was passing through and wanted to say hello."

The woman smiled. "Come on in then. We were all outside in the back yard. That's why we didn't hear the door."

"Thank you," said Hogan, as he stepped inside.

"I'm Elise Schultz, by the way," introduced the woman. "Hans is my father-in-law. And this is my son. We call him Hansie so there's no confusion."

"Of course," said Hogan. "He kind of reminds me of Schultz. Excuse me, that's what I'm accustomed to calling your father-in-law."

"No, that is fine," she said. "Come this way."

"I don't mean to interrupt any family occasion," said Hogan.

"No, it is nothing," said Elise. "My husband and I and our children are staying with Hans and his wife for the day as a visit. But there is nothing to worry about. I'm sure Hans won't mind seeing an old friend."

"Thank you," said Hogan in reply, as Elise led him through the well-furnished house.

"We were all outside when you knocked," explained Elise. "That's why we didn't hear."

She opened the door which led to the patio. Gathered around a table were a few adults, while two younger boys played in the yard beyond. At the table, Hogan easily picked out Schultz and his wife. There were two younger men seated as well. They all looked up when Elise stepped outside, releasing Hansie to go play.

"Colonel Hogan!" Schultz jumped up from the table quicker than Hogan could have given him credit for. He rounded the table with his hands extended out in happy greetings. "What are you doing here?"

Hogan sighed, wondering how he should answer this. Obviously, Newkirk was not here. Hogan wondered if he had ever stopped even.

"I'm on vacation. I heard you lived here and I couldn't pass it up," replied Hogan.

"Oh, I am_ so_ glad you came," said Schultz. "In fact, it is funny that you are here because this morning—"

_"Schultz!"_

Even Hogan stiffened at the sharp command to silence Schultz. They both spun around and Hogan felt a wave of déjà vu. He felt like he and Schultz had been caught up in some _monkey business_ because there was no mistaking the man standing in the patio doorway. It was Wilhelm Klink.

"Kommandant?" Hogan couldn't help but blurt that out. It was one of the last people he had dreamed of seeing here on his race to find Newkirk.

"It is not Kommandant anymore," said Klink. "Just Wilhelm or Klink if you please."

"Sure," said Hogan, now hiding his surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

Hogan's eyebrows shot up and he looked at Schultz as if asking _really?_

Klink sighed irritably. "Hans hired me as a book keeper for his toy company after all. But my home was destroyed , so now I live here."

"Like forever," asked Hogan, shooting another questioning glance at Schultz.

That was the last straw for Klink. "Yes, Colonel Hogan. For the rest of my life!"

"Well, that shouldn't be too long," muttered Hogan, _just_ loud enough for Schultz and Klink to hear. He gave them a cheeky grin. "Sorry, sir—er—_Wilhelm_—that was bad taste."

Klink tried to give Hogan the most disapproving look he could, but found that he couldn't really hold in a small grin. He scoffed quickly, though, and assumed a more businesslike tone.

"So, what do you go by these days," asked Klink, as he came over to the table.

Hogan smiled. "My men still insist on calling me Colonel. So you can call me whatever you comfortable with."

"What, you are not a Colonel anymore," asked Schultz. "Did you retire?"

Hogan smiled. "No, Schultz. I got promoted."

There was an unappreciative grunt from Klink, and Hogan guessed that Klink wasn't at all pleased that he had gotten the promotion Klink had tried to get for years. But Hogan held out his hand to Klink.

"Let's start over," he said. "Long time no see, Klink."

"Yes, Hogan," said Klink, shaking the American's hand. "Long time no see. So what are _you_ doing here."

"I think you know," said Hogan. "Because you didn't let Schultz finish his sentence when he was telling me about this morning."

Klink rolled his eyes at Schultz, who smiled sheepishly. Hogan chuckled. Some things would never change.

"We will take it to the study, then" said Schultz in his most authoritative tone. Hogan shot him a bewildered look, which h Schultz returned with a tiny shrug of his shoulders. "Please, Colonel Hogan. This _is_ my house."

Hogan laughed, much enjoying this reunion.

"But first," said Schultz. "I must make some introductions." He switched to German for the benefit of his family. "This is my wife, Gretchen. You met her at the camp." Hogan smiled and shook Gretchen's hand. She was in a much better mood today than when he had first met her. Schultz then pointed to a young man sitting beside Gretchen. "This is my oldest son, Georg." One of the young men at the table stood up and shook Hogan's hand. He resembled his father with the blond hair and blue eyes, but was skinny as a rail. "This is his wife, Elise, whom you must have met at the door." Elise smiled at Hogan. "This is my daughter, Gerta." Gerta looked more like her mother with her dark hair. "And this is Gerta's husband, Conrad."

Hogan gestured to three children playing in the yard. "Grandchildren, Schultzie?"

Schultz smiled proudly. "Yes."

"Congrats," said Hogan. "I'll be sure to tell the boys at home. They'll like that."

"Well how is everyone," asked Schultz. "I heard that Carter was engaged—"

Schultz," said Klink. "The study?"

"Right," said Schultz. He looked at his family apologetically. "If you'll excuse us…"

"Go right ahead, Hans," said Gretchen. "We'll be fine."

Schultz led the way back into the house, followed by Hogan and then Klink. They through the den and into a room full of books and a desk. There were also some cushioned armchairs where guests could sit. Schultz shut the door behind them.

"Okay," said Hogan. "Where did Newkirk go?"

"We know he is in Frankfurt," answered Klink. "He said he would return tonight. Why don't you just wait for him here?"

"Because I can't let him get himself in any more trouble," answered Hogan.

"Colonel Hogan," said Schultz calmly. "You know Wilhelm and I do not know that much about your old business and Newkirk's business now. But we have always had an idea that you are good at it. We know enough about Newkirk's job to know that he is good at it. You can let him be. If he says he will be back by tonight, than he will. Trust him, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan looked at Schultz appreciatively. "I understand what you're telling me, but you don't know what's going on right now. Newkirk's in trouble. Something went wrong. And I can't let him make another mistake."

Hogan _did_ have faith in Newkirk. But the longer this journey went on, the more doubt Hogan had in his mind. What if Newkirk really had killed Zenger? If it was true, then there was nothing to stop him from killing Eichel as well. That would only land Newkirk in more trouble. Hogan had made up his mind to catch Newkirk because he had to be there-just in case.

"We know something went wrong," said Klink.

Hogan's eyebrows shot up. "You do?"

"_Ja_," said Schultz. Klink went over to the desk and pulled a newspaper off of it. Hogan saw that it was the _London Times; Sunday Edition _

Klink handed the paper to Hogan. It was opened and folded to the page describing the murder of Zenger and also explaining that the main suspect: Peter Newkirk, was missing and most likely on the run for having committed the murder.

Hogan looked back at Klink and Schultz with one risen, inquiring eyebrow. "You guys get this newspaper?"

"Only Sunday's edition," replied Schultz.

"Anyway, we do know that Newkirk is in trouble," said Klink. "But we think he will be okay."

"That's because _you_, dear Wilhelm, wouldn't stick your neck out to help someone if it meant you might get caught in the crossfire," said Hogan.

Klink couldn't exactly deny that, but still looked hurt. "We _have _helped him Hogan. He stays here. He practically has his own room."

Hogan chuckled. "Fine. But look, I have to get to him. Do you know where he is, or not?"

"We are not lying to you, Colonel Hogan," answered Schultz. "We do not know where he is. Just that he is in Frankfurt."

Hogan plopped down into one of the armchairs with an exasperated sigh. "Sweet Jesus, I'm gonna kill Newkirk when I get my hands on him." He shook his head and looked back up at the two older men. "Well, I can't really go gallivanting around Frankfurt without a clue about where I'm going. Maybe I should stay here till he comes back."

He was seriously considering it now. At least, when he had stopped in Paris and Hammelburg he had been sent in the right direction. But now, he didn't have a clue. Frankfurt was a large city; many places for Newkirk to be seeking out Eichel. Suddenly, an idea struck Hogan.

"You said he practically has his own room," asked Hogan.

Klink nodded. _"Ja."_

"Did he leave anything behind," asked Hogan, jumping up.

The two Germans shrugged.

"Well which room is his?"

"Up the stairs, second on the left."

Hogan was up there in seconds. The room was very plain. But on the bed there was a small satchel, similar to the one Hogan carried. He figured that this must be Newkirk's. He emptied it of its contents but found nothing useful: just a change of clothes, some extra money, a pack of cigarettes, and a few matches. To say Newkirk traveled light was an understatement. But Hogan had confirmed one thing: Newkirk had the gun with him.

Klink and Schultz came into the room and were not surprised to see Hogan sitting hopelessly on the bed.

"Nothing," asked Klink.

"Of course, nothing," said Hogan. "It's not like he would leave anything behind to show where he was headed."

"You know," said Schultz. "He made a few phone calls before he left. I think they were to hotels."

Hogan stood up quickly. "He was looking for Eichel. Did you hear anything about what hotels they might be?"

"_Nein_," said Schultz. "I am sorry."

"That's all right," said Hogan. "We can retrace the calls anyway. It'll just take a bit longer."

He started for the door when he spotted a small wastebasket on the opposite side of the room. There was a chance…

When he looked in it, he was miraculously saved by a small piece of paper crumpled into a small ball. He quickly unfolded it and was rewarded with the names of five hotels. He looked up at Klink and Schultz.

"Bingo."


	9. Fourth Time the Charm

**Chapter Nine: F****ourth**** T****ime ****the**** C****harm**

Hogan walked out the third hotel, with his stomach grumbling for food, and his mind still grumbling for answers. Of course, with his luck of late, the hotel Newkirk was at would not be at the top of the list. So, he pulled out the list again and got the name of the fourth one. After asking some directions, it turned out it would be a long walk. After another five minutes of seeking out a cab, he was beginning to wonder if just walking would get him there faster. Hogan was getting frustrated now. He was going so slow; perhaps too slow.

He tried to relax when he was in the cab, but when they reached a crowded intersection that was now stalled by the debris of a vegetable truck that had been hit by a car, his nerves went off again.

"Is there any way around this," he asked the cab driver.

"Sorry, no," said the cab driver.

Fortunately, five minutes later they were moving since the police had arrived and taken control to keep the traffic going. But five minutes felt like hours to Hogan. And another fifteen minutes to the hotel was even more agonizing. This might not even be the right one!

Hogan rushed inside at a fast-paced walk. Trying not to be rude, he _gently_ nudged a young couple aside at the counter. The man behind the counter looked fairly annoyed, but Hogan cut him off from reprimanding him.

"Is Peter Newkirk staying at this hotel," asked Hogan in an urgent tone. "Please, it's an emergency. I need to find him."

The man rolled his eyes and shot an apologetic look to the young couple. But he opened up his books anyway and took a painstakingly slow time going down the list of names. Finally, he stopped.

"Yes, room 313," said the man. "Would you like—". But when he looked back up, Hogan was no longer there.

Hogan took the stairs two at a time to get to the third floor. He was rather out of breath when he came to the door and took a few breaths to steady himself. Then, he entered the hallway. Coming to room 313, he knocked quickly.

Then, everything happened too fast for Hogan to initially comprehend. The door flew open, he saw no one there, but was pulled in, the door slammed shut, and Hogan felt cold steel pressed to his head.

"Hands up."

_That's not Newkirk_, thought Hogan as he raised his hands. He was quickly searched and then his hands were pulled behind him and cuffed tightly. He was pushed deeper into the room, which was dark. Hogan was pushed towards the window seat.

"Sit down." He did, finally turning around to face his kidnapper.

"Axel Eichel," assumed Hogan.

"Correct. General Robert Hogan?"

"What makes you think I'm a general?"

"Your German is good but I know what Robert Hogan looks like, and you're him."

Hogan sighed. Switching to English, he said, "So, is this really Peter Newkirk's room?"

"Yes," said Eichel. "I broke in to wait for when he returns. When you showed up, though, I could not resist but take you. It will make things easier for when Newkirk comes back."

"What makes you think that," asked Hogan.

"I have done my research on _Herr_ Newkirk and that is what started this whole mess," said Eichel. "He is a foolish man. He cares too much about his friends."

"So, what do you want from Newkirk," asked Hogan.

"Well, I did not get what I really wanted," said Eichel. "So I am shooting for the next best thing; leaving this place. But he broke into my own room last night and stole the papers. I have a feeling that he went to fetch the authorities to set up my arrest, but now I have you…an American General. That does tend to sway people."

"Its suicide," said Hogan. "If Newkirk went to go get American MPs, they'll know how to deal with a hostage situation. You'll be dead."

"But it is not the American MPs I am worrying about," said Eichel. "If Newkirk thinks your life is in danger, he will take matters into his own hands. Hopefully that will give me my opportunity."

"I'm lost," said Hogan. "Do you really want to make it across the border or not?"

"I want Newkirk dead," replied Eichel coldly. "If that means I don't get across the border, and instead go to prison. That is okay with me. I would get out of prison eventually anyway."

_He's mad_, thought Hogan.

But he was also right. This wasn't wartime. Newkirk was no high ranking official for anyone. Even if Eichel was arrested for murder, there was a good chance that some time down the road, he would be released.

"I did not want Newkirk dead originally," continued Eichel. "I wanted one of his friends dead."

"Thomas Mackey," asked Hogan.

"Or his son, James Mackey," answered Eichel. "I wanted Newkirk to feel what I felt like when I lost my father."

"You left your father before the war even started," said Hogan. "You were most likely a draft dodger."

"No," snapped Eichel. "My father, as well as Hochstetter, sent us both to England to finish our education. Felix's mother was English. She wanted him to have a college education in England. She left money in her will for it. Hochstetter kept her wish. I followed with my father's blessing. Felix and I had been good friends since we were boys. We promised to return but when the war came, we were never allowed visas to leave the country. We returned after the war, but both my father and Hochstetter were in hiding for their supposedly terrible deeds. All they were doing were following orders."

"Right," spat Hogan. "Except they probably enjoyed those orders. I knew Hochstetter and he took pleasure in tracking us down for interrogations."

"Shut up," said Eichel, waving his gun. "Anyway, we came back to England, and became profitable businessman. It was not long afterwards that we heard about Hochstetter's execution. We were shocked. I went to Nürnberg to try and find information on who had a hand in finding Hochstetter. All I got was that MI6 was in charge of the operation. I dug around some more, but found nothing." Eichel sighed deeply. "Then, I got word in England a few years later that my father had been captured and was on trial. I went to the trial where he was found guilty of war crimes and sentenced to death. I stayed to say good bye and watched him die. That was when I decided I would find out who it was. And I remembered someone that was there, at the trial and the execution. I remembered how he was not associated with anyone else there. He wasn't called to testify either. So, I looked into him and learned all about Peter Newkirk. It was not easy, but I managed to learn enough from other former Gestapo members who had known Hochstetter. I learned about all his superstitions with Stalag 13. Of course, after researching Peter Newkirk, I knew he had been there. Dug up some more and made connections that he was the one who had put my father and Hochstetter behind bars. I told Felix, and we decided to start getting our revenge on him."

"Well, it didn't work, said Hogan. "And I can promise you that you'll probably be the one spending some time behind bars."

Eichel scoffed skeptically. "Newkirk probably has very little to put me behind bars for. I did not kill anyone."

Hogan didn't like the tone of Eichel's voice. It was too mocking. As if he was teasing the person you would be behind bars for the murder of Felix Zenger. He bore his eyes into Eichel's.

"Who murdered Zenger," demanded Hogan.

Eichel smirked. 'What. You do not know? It was quite funny how it all happened-"

"Shut up, Eichel."

Both Hogan and Eichel started at the voice. Eichel spun around, gun raised. But he was light years slower than the intruder. There was a hiss of air and with a cry Eichel dropped his gun. He held onto his forearm while glaring at the man standing before him with a gun.

Newkirk was standing in the doorway of the door that adjoined rooms 313 and 314. His expression was stony as he glared at Eichel. And his gun was poised for another shot if needed. But he quickly went over and gathered the gun that Eichel had dropped. He tossed it over to where Hogan sat. It was then that he finally looked at Hogan.

"One moment, Gov, and I'll 'ave you out o' the jewelry," he said.

"Right," replied Hogan, trying to keep his emotions checked. This was not how he had imagined meeting Newkirk again. He wasn't sure what he had imagined, but this wasn't it.

Newkirk pulled out his own handcuffs and locked Eichel to the bedpost. Then, he walked over to Hogan and deftly unlocked the cuffs. He pocketed them and pulled Hogan off the window seat.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get out 'o 'ere. The MPs are on the way."

Newkirk led Hogan out of the room, not even glancing at Eichel as he went by. Hogan just gave Eichel a smug grin as if saying _I told you so._

They stepped out into the hallway just as American MPs arrived. Newkirk merely pointed to room 313 and they went in. Apparently, they'd already been debriefed about the situation. No words were exchanged. Newkirk led the way to the stairwell. Hogan was about to explode with words when finally, alone in the stairwell, Newkirk turned around and looked at Hogan. His expression relaxed and he smiled cheerfully.

"Wot the bloody 'ell are you doin' 'ere, Guv'nor," he asked, clapping a hand on Hogan's shoulder.

Hogan's shoulders dropped with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "Really? Not even a 'How are you?' or 'Long time no see'?"

"I guess it 'as been awhile," said Newkirk with a smile. He shrugged apologetically.

"Your last letter arrived in the mail four years ago," deadpanned Hogan.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Really, I'm sorry. Lost track of time and…" He trailed off at Hogan's look which was clearly telling him that his former commanding officer was not buying the excuse. Newkirk's expression changed to an almost weary one and he looked towards the ground. "I can explain, but this isn't exactly the place. I don't know about you, but I'm whipped."

"Going back to Schultz's," asked Hogan.

Newkirk smiled. "Well, glad you know about that. Makes explainin' things to Schultz and Klink a mite easier."

"Well, you have _a lot_ of explaining to do," said Hogan with a grin.

But Newkirk cocked his head slightly.

Hogan's eyebrows rose. "You do know you're wanted in London for murder, right?"

Newkirk's expression changed from friendly confusion to agitation. "Is that why you're 'ere? To bring me back?"

Hogan felt a stab of mistrust. His tone came out sharp. "Don't act like you've been betrayed Newkirk. You know me better than that. I came because I was worried. I didn't have a clue about what was going on till I showed up in London to find out what happened to you. I meet up with Butler and learn about all this MI6 stuff and then how you're wanted for murder. I came cause you're the only one who knows the truth."

"What do you think the truth is," asked Newkirk, as if he was testing Hogan.

Hogan hated himself for hesitating. He didn't even get to speak before Newkirk turned and started down the stairs.

"You covered it up well," said Hogan. "No one knows who killed Zenger. The people back home trying to figure it out don't want to believe it was you. I don't either. But if wasn't you, who was it?"

Newkirk stopped and looked back up at Hogan with a despondent expression.

"At Schultz's house I'll tell you everything," said Newkirk.

"Okay," said Hogan, nodding. "Let's go."

In the cab, they were both silent until they came to the country side.

"Sir," started Newkirk.

"Please," said Hogan. "Anything but sir. I'm not your CO anymore."

Newkirk gave him a small smile. "Right. Well, I'm sorry about what I said at the hotel. You're right; I do know you better than that. I was just—I didn't know what to expect."

"Expect," echoed Hogan. "From what? Me?"

Newkirk nodded with shame. "I should've known you weren't tracking me down to bring me back to London to answer up. I was just paranoid about it all. It's a secret I can't risk much on."

"What about Eichel," asked Hogan. "He seemed to know."

"I already told his warden that whatever he says isn't to be taken seriously," said Newkirk. "He knows to wait until London calls before doing anything." He smiled. "We've done this before."

Hogan just nodded. "Look, apology accepted. I don't blame you for anything Newkirk. Except for not hearing from you all those years."

They stopped in front of Schultz's house and got out. The cab drove off and Newkirk turned to Hogan again. But whatever he was going to say was cut off by the children who came running out the front door. Little Hansie was desperately trying to keep up with his older cousins.

"Uncle Peter," cried the oldest, no more than ten. "Uncle Peter, Bruno cuffed our hands together and we've been stuck for hours."

The boy held up one hand, which jerked up his younger brother's hand as well. Newkirk shot an amused look at Hogan.

"Uncle Peter," asked Hogan with a teasing smile.

Newkirk rolled his eyes and looked back down at the boys. "So, what do you want me to do, Rafael?" They were speaking German, which was no problem for Hogan and Newkirk.

Rafael glared. "We want you to unlock it." His tone was one of extreme exasperation of having been locked to his younger brother all afternoon.

"No, no," whined Hansie, just now catching up. His little cheeks were flushed as he looked up at his Uncle Peter. "Don't unlock them."

Newkirk laughed. "Why not?"

"Because it's funny when they are locked together," said Hansie with a shy smile.

"Wait till I get you," snapped Bruno. "You probably hid the keys!" He made a grab for Hansie, who darted behind Newkirk's legs.

"Now wait a minute, wait a minute," said Newkirk. "Let's not kill each other." He gave Hansie a little pat on the head. "Bruno, Rafael, those are the trick cuffs. There are no keys."

Rafael and Bruno looked at one another embarrassingly. With a twist of their wrists, the cuffs unlocked. Rafael held it out to Newkirk, who took it and put it in his pocket. He gave them a knowing smile. Then, he quickly picked up little Hansie, threw him on his back, and ran up the drive.

"Race you to the pie Schultz is hiding in the back of the refrigerator," he called over his shoulder.

Hansie giggled on Newkirk's back, while Rafael and Bruno groaned before racing after Newkirk. Hogan was left at the end of the drive with a content smile.

"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered to himself. But he just shook his head and went back into the house, just in time to hear Gretchen scolding Schultz about hiding pie in the back of her fridge.


	10. The Truth

**Chapter Ten: T****he**** T****ruth**

After the pie fiasco, a late supper with the large group, saying goodbye to Schultz's children and grandchildren, and a much needed shower, Hogan finally sought out Newkirk to finish their conversation. Once more, he was a hard man to find. But he was eventually pointed outside by Klink. Newkirk was sitting in the backyard on a bench, the only illumination coming from the cigarette he was holding. Hogan joined him wordlessly.

"_Frau_ Gretchen doesn't let me smoke inside," explained Newkirk.

"Bad habit," remarked Hogan.

Newkirk shrugged. "I apparently 'ave a lot of bad 'abits."

Hogan chuckled. "So, when do I get the full story?"

Newkirk sighed deeply, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Alright, alright. Wot do you know so far?"

Hogan quickly told him about how they found out about Eichel and Zenger's past and connections to two of Newkirk's previous cases. He then went on to explain how they had no idea who the killer really was.

Newkirk gave him a smile before diving into the explanation. "I'd 'ave to say I did a pretty good job of makin' things confusin'."

"That's what I told you before," said Hogan. "Now, what really happened?"

"You got all that stuff right," said Newkirk. "When Thom lost 'is job, I was upset for 'im. Especially with James to raise. But, I figured—like Thom 'ad—that 'e would be able to get a new job with 'is experience. When 'e got turned down all those times, it smelled fishy to me. Since I wasn't workin' at the time I started diggin' around. I learned about Eichel and 'is father. That was easy; they 'ave the same last name. But I investigated Zenger's background as well, and' that's when I learned about Hochstetter. I was surprised and worried. Then I learned Eichel was preventin' Thom from getting' all those jobs by givin' 'im a bad name. Then I learned somethin' more: Eichel wanted either Thom or James to bite the dust. One day, I saw James meetin' Eichel at this pub. Somehow, Eichel 'ad got a hold of 'im. Afterwards, I caught up to James and told 'im I knew. James was a mess. 'E told me that Eichel would pay 'im if 'e killed Zenger; pay 'im enough money to make it easier for Thom." Newkirk shook his head. "James is just a kid. 'E doesn't know anythin' about killin'. 'E doesn't know, that even when you 'ave to do it, it still doesn't feel right. 'E thought Zenger deserved it, for gettin' rid of 'is dad and all the other blokes who lost jobs. See, Eichel was playin' with 'im. 'E told James that Zenger was a German gettin' 'is own way of revenge on the English. I told James it wasn't true. I told 'im not to go after Zenger, but let me take care of it. I was going to dig up some more and then let MI6 take care of it. But James got mad at me—cause 'e's growin' up and thinks 'e knows 'ow it's all got to be done."

Newkirk paused and flicked his cigarette butt away into the grass.

"I don't think—"

"I'll pick it up."

"Okay."

Newkirk sighed again. "Anyway, the kid went to Zenger's apartment. I went over to Thom's 'ouse earlier that evenin' and 'ad supper with 'em. James was actin' funny, so I figured 'e might go that night. I went to the apartment and 'eard raised voices. One of them was James. So, I broke in. Zenger wasn't surprised to see me. It was all a part of the plan probably. I told James to get out. Somehow, 'e 'ad a gun. Eichel probably gave it to 'im. Then, Zenger made a grab for James and they got into a scuffle. The gun went off, and Zenger was dead. Just like that.

"James was terrified. It all 'it 'im then. 'E thought 'e was goin' to prison. The door opened up, and there was Eichel. 'E started 'ollerin' about murder so that the whole apartment buildin' was awake. I grabbed James and stuck 'im up in the air vent. 'E was small enough to climb around in there. I told 'im to get back to 'is 'ouse and not to say a word to anyone. I told 'im 'e wouldn't go to prison, but 'e 'ad to let me take care of it. 'E promised and then took off. I went out the window, just as the police started showin' up. I dodged a few and then ran to Blackwell's favorite pub. I spotted 'im and told 'im to say it was me. 'E was very confused, but promised. So after that, I gathered up a few things, dropped off some stuff at Mavis', and then left for France. I kept the gun that killed Zenger. I went and dropped it off at Schnitzer's. 'E wouldn't ask any questions. But I'll go get it on our way back. That way there won't be any evidence missin'.

"After that, I just knew I needed to catch Eichel. I 'ave enough evidence to put 'im behind bars for quite awhile. It's obvious that 'e was settin' out to get revenge and now that I've 'eard 'im say it more than once, it'll work out."

"He told me too," said Hogan. "At the hotel. I could testify."

Newkirk shook his head. "It's fine, Gov. You don't need to get involved."

"Newkirk," said Hogan, his tone of warning. "I'm already involved. Eichel was about to hold me as hostage, remember? Besides, I chased you across Western Europe. I know a lot now." He frowned. "Is that why you never wrote us?"

Newkirk gave him a sheepish look. "I thought if you guys knew wot I was up to, you'd—you'd either want to 'elp, or come over 'ere and talk me out of it. I didn't want you guys involved. The war's over. Everyone deserves their peace and to be 'ome. I didn't want you guys to worry or think you were obligated somehow to come over 'ere and do this too."

Hogan shook his head with chuckle. "Jeez, Newkirk, only you would come up with a reason like that. Look, we probably would worry about you or at least wonder about you from time to time, because that's how friends are. But it would have been nowhere near how badly we've been wondering and worrying for the last four years without any contact from you. The only reason none of us raced over before was because LeBeau assured us that you were fine. Now, whether or not we would have felt like we should help…I can't really speak for the others. I think I would've done what LeBeau did. I mean, I had a job and family to go back home too. The others had a lot to go back to as well."

"I know that," said Newkirk. "And I was so happy for all of you! And I didn't want to mess it up by reminding you of these people. These guys I track down…they're…they're monsters! There's no other way to explain it. What they did in the war is some of the most terrible things. They're the Kommandants of concentration camps, guards at those camps, executioners, Gestapo officers who've interrogated people for no reason, interrogated prisoners, murdered POWs. I didn't want you guys to know about it because it would just bring it all up again."

"Newkirk," said Hogan softly. "That stuff will never leave any of us. We'll all remember it till the day we die."

"I know, I know," said Newkirk, barely in a whisper. "But 'ave you ever seen a man 'ang before?"

"No," answered Hogan.

"Well, they all 'ang the same," said Newkirk. "Whether they're innocent and 'aven't 'armed a fly or their guilty of the most atrocious things, they all 'ang the same." He shook his head and sat up some. "Look, it doesn't matter anymore. You know now and…and I was stupid for thinking I had to keep it from you or anyone else. It won't happen again. Cause I miss all of you. Not really LeBeau, I see him nearly every other week."

"Yeah, that's what he told me," said Hogan. "I followed you there, then to Hammelburg, and then to Frankfurt. Caught up with some people in the process." He smiled slyly. "I even met up with Marie along the way."

Newkirk's eyes went wide. "You did? Well then, _that _cat is out of the bag too. Not that I was purposely keepin' it from you, but—"

Hogan just laughed. "Calm down Newkirk. I'm happy for you! You've finally found someone. I'm happy for both of you! I just at least expect a wedding invitation."

Newkirk stuttered before just looking up to the sky with pleading eyes. Hogan just laughed harder.

"I really should get on LeBeau for not telling me," said Hogan. "I thought he would."

"'E was probably 'avin' a nice laugh about it too," muttered Newkirk darkly. "A joke on you, of course." But he smiled. "I do love 'er, Guv."

Hogan's teasing smile softened. "Good for you."

"What about you then," said Newkirk, leaning back against the bench casually with a knowing smile. "Got any ladies yet?"

"I'm a happy bachelor," said Hogan. "I don't do anything but work, fly, and spend weekends with my family and friends."

Newkirk scoffed. "Generals."

"It's harder than it looks," said Hogan.

"Right."

They slipped into a comfortable, companionable silence, just enjoying the nice evening.

After sometime, Newkirk stood up. "We should 'it the sack, Guv. I've got to be back on me way to London. A lot of things to set straight. I assume you'll be followin'."

"You bet," said Hogan. "You won't be leaving my sights for awhile." As Newkirk started walking off, Hogan made a tsking noise.

"Wot?"

"You forgot to pick up the cigarette butt."

"Generals." But he picked it up anyway.


	11. Epilogue

**E****pilogue**

A week later, most of the truth was documented for the police. James Mackey had been tricked inside Felix Zenger's apartment, there was a struggle, and James killed in self-defense. Axel Eichel and Peter Newkirk were witnesses. Eichel had been working with Zenger to hurt the Engländers in order to have some pay back for the war and their father's deaths. All Peter supposedly did was track down Eichel so that he could confess. The other details of Peter's involvement in the issue were covered up by M16. Inspector Matthias Knight was gladly sentenced to silence. The truth was what he had wanted, and that was what he got and swore to at the trial.

The matter was resolved at a trial that was quickly brought up. The issue was sped up by MI6 who had no wish to dwell on it any longer. Not while one of their own (Peter) was behind bars for still being suspected of the murder. MI6 couldn't do everything without causing some suspicion. But Newkirk was quite happy to do it as long as he kept James on the other side of the prison wall. That was what he had committed himself to do from the beginning.

But the trial went perfectly. Robert Hogan testified about Eichel confessing his plans to them. Rob also testified about Eichel holding, he, an American General hostage. That in itself was to put Eichel in prison for quite some time. Then, Everley Blackwell came to the stand to explain how Peter had told him to say that he was the one in the building. Finally, James testified, explaining that Eichel was to pay him money if he killed Zenger. Eichel had supplied him the gun. And Eichel had told James that if he shouldn't kill Zenger, Thom Mackey wouldn't be getting a job anytime soon.

If Eichel had not been pinned down earlier, that sealed the deal.

So, it was a happy ending.

And it went further. General Butler let Peter off for awhile, giving him a "much needed vacation to travel wherever you like". It was said with a conspicuous look in Rob's direction. But Butler was a little late. Peter and Rob had already discussed their plans. They would spend half of Rob's vacation time here in Europe to see more of Louis LeBeau, Marie, the Bachmeiers and Hammelburg, and of course the Schultz Manor and its residents. The other half would be spent in the states where Rob would guide Peter around to see Andre Carter and James Kinchloe—who everyone still called Kinch. Peter had even persuaded Marie to come with them.

The reunions were as good as they could get. Andrew was engaged to Mary Jane. Peter had a few choice words for that, but Marie kept him in check. Kinch had a lovely family, and number two was on the way, but not for some time. Rob was more than happy to finally introduce is parents and siblings to Peter and Marie.

Afterwards, all the old team could talk about was the day they could all get together for a reunion. But with Louis' firstborn on the way soon, and Andrew's wedding date fast approaching, the grand reunion would have to wait awhile, much to everyone's disappointment.

However, shortly after Peter and Marie returned to Europe, everyone in the states got an answer to when they should have the reunion:

they were all invited to a wedding in France.


End file.
